ripped at every edge (but you're a masterpiece)
by hpnutter
Summary: When Pepper leaves Tony, he reverts to his old habits. He's not expecting much when he picks up Hari, but is pleasantly surprised when their hook-up turns into something more. Fem!Harry/Tony Stark. Full, explicit version on AO3. pre-AoU. Light BDSM.
1. met you in a bar

Nobody's really surprised when Pepper and Tony break up.

It's unspoken, but people have been either expecting Pepper to open her eyes and realize she deserves better than Tony or expecting Tony to crave the freedom of his old lifestyle without any constraints like a relationship to hold him down. Both are rather bullheaded, stubborn to a fault and persistent as hell. In a lot of ways, they're similar.

But in other ways, _important_ ways, they are too different, and this is what eventually tears them apart.

It starts slowly, with Pepper staying at the office later and later to get work done, with Tony not really noticing she's gone. She crawls into a bed that's still cold, that will stay cold when she wakes up because Tony will still be tinkering away down in his workshop, unable to sleep as the nightmares plague him.

There's less intimacy in their interactions, less affection in the way she talks to him.

It takes a while for Tony to realize it. He's so caught up in trying to outwork the anxiety, the paralyzing fear of Earth being overtaken by a force they can't stop, that he neglects her. He doesn't realize how much until she's walking out the door, suitcase in hand, an ultimatum that hits him as sharply as his own fucking missile had back in Afghanistan.

"I don't need Iron Man, I need Tony. Come get me when you find him again."

And it _hurts_.

Because what she and SHIELD don't seem to understand is that there is no separating the two. Tony Stark wouldn't be alive without Iron Man, and there is no Iron Man without Tony Stark.

SHIELD says, Iron Man: yes, Tony Stark: not recommended.

Pepper says, Tony Stark: yes, Iron Man: fuck no.

They are one in the same, and ultimately, he's not good enough.

He's never good enough.

Tony watches her go, feels such a deep and profound loss as her footsteps get further and further away from him. She's gone, and all he can do for the first few hours is sit on the couch as the sun disappears into the horizon, as the stars come out, and stare blankly at the wall.

JARVIS speaks softly to him, a comforting presence, but he sits there, still, and wonders just what the fuck is wrong with him.

How the fuck did he become his father without him realizing it?

Because this is shit Howard would do. His parents never really fought in front of him, but he's overheard a few conversations between them, and Howard's neglect of his family for work was a primary concern. He doesn't want to be his father, always hated feeling like he would never amount to anything in the eyes of Howard Stark.

And here he is, watching arguably the best thing that ever happened to him walk out of his life. He wants to chase after her, wants to do whatever she wants him to do so long as that means she'll stay by his side.

But he can't.

Tony Stark is Iron Man, period.

Rhodey is the first person he tells. He calls him at four twenty-two in the morning, eleven hours, six minutes, and fifteen seconds after Pep— _Miss Potts_ —leaves. "I'll be right there," Rhodey says, because his platypus hasn't yet let him down.

He ignores the part inside him that feels it's only a matter of time.

The first thing Rhodey does is hug him, and it reminds him of their MIT days, when Sunset Bain toyed with his heart and took pleasure in metaphorically ripping it out. Rhodey feels like home, like strength and dependability, and Tony really fucking _needs_ it right now.

He doesn't cry, can't really muster up the energy to have any sort of emotional breakdown. They drink and drink and drink until the sun comes up and they can't string any words together.

It isn't until Rhodey leaves days later that the realization fully hits him.

Pepper isn't coming back.

Tony had open heart surgery without anesthesia in a dirty cave in Afghanistan. He had his insides rearranged to make room for an electromagnet that left him with daily pain. His captors mercilessly waterboarded him, didn't care that the car battery would shock him when it got wet.

And somehow, none of that feels as devastating as this.

Work is hard. He tries to fall back into their old routine, tries to keep things professional, but he struggles. He has a hard time separating Pepper – bright smiles, breathless laughter underneath the sheets, warmth and joy and love – with Miss Potts – brilliant CEO, polite and professional, distant, forever out of reach.

But she…doesn't.

Pepper smiles more ( _fuck, how long has she been **miserable** with him?_), carries herself taller. She's a strong woman, of course something like this wouldn't break her. Of course she can pick herself back up, carry on with her head held high, make it look as easy as breathing.

And he can't, so he leaves. Moving back to New York City simultaneously lets him breathe easier and steals his breath. He has the space he needs to try to pick himself back up, brings back a slew of casual encounters because he doesn't know if he can put his heart out again.

But New York City is where that fucking portal opened. If he closes his eyes, he can still see the fleets of Chitauri, can imagine what would have happened if he hadn't sent them that goddamn nuke.

He knows something is out there. He knows the Chitauri was just the beginning, the opening number.

He knows, and it fucking _terrifies_ him.

But Stark men are made of iron.

Tony is adaptable, if nothing else.

* * *

The bar is rather mellow. It's not bursting with activity, not full of people looking to have a good time. Wednesday nights don't always have an active party life, but that's okay. Tony's not exactly looking for company right now.

Normally he drinks at home. He has an excellent selection of scotch and whiskey, ridiculously expensive bottles that cost more than a month of rent in a Manhattan condo. But tonight, the appeal of drinking in solitude is lost.

Rhodey is away being an actual adult with a job, whatever that means.

Happy is busy tonight with family obligations.

Pepper is… yeah, not going there again.

JARVIS will keep him company, like always, but there's only so much his baby boy can do. As human-like as JARVIS is, he's not human. He can't sit next to Tony, share a drink.

And he doesn't want to be alone right now. His tower is fabulous, full of state-of-the-art tech, modern and sleek, everything that he could want in a home. But it's also cold, lonely, and he's already going to have enough of those days ahead of him.

And so, he heads to the bar, quipping to JARVIS, "Don't wait up, baby boy."

The bartender, Dean, recognizes him, because of course he does, but most of the bartenders know that him walking through their doors means massive profits for the night. Dean keeps his shots going all night, a flirtatious smile on his face. He's cute, boyish with his cropped brown hair and dimples when he smiles, and Tony considers perhaps bringing him home afterwards for some fun.

It's been a couple of weeks since he's last brought someone home. A new record since Pepper, the tabloids cruelly jab, but Tony is well practiced in ignoring what the media has to say. He knocks back another shot, sighs happily at the burn as it travels down his throat.

He's about to pay out his tab, hit that bartender up for his number, but then his eyes catch someone… _interesting_.

The woman is locking lips with another man. It's not like making out and hooking up in bars is an unfamiliar sight. He expects to see people getting it on at some point every time he walks in the door. He does _not_ expect the woman to look so bored.

The man is moaning, groping her ass, but the woman does not look nearly as enthusiastic as her partner. Tony can't help but stare, wonders if he's going to get some other form of entertainment tonight.

He's proven correct when the woman pushes the man away. Her green eyes are unimpressed, her mouth a thin line of disappointment.

"Yeah, this isn't happening," he hears her say.

"Wha—?"

"I'm sorry, I just don't think this will work out." She looks apologetic, turns around to walk away.

The man's face scrunches in confusion, but that quickly disappears into anger. He grips her arm tightly, turns her around to face him.

Tony's out of his chair and striding towards them before the man can open his mouth. "Hey, the lady doesn't want to go with you," he says. He grabs the man's wrist, squeezes until he lets go of the woman's arm.

"Why are you—?"

"If you know what's good for you," Tony continues darkly, not letting up on his own grip, "you'll just turn around and leave."

The man cowers underneath his grip and his stare, scampers out of the bar when Tony finally releases him. Tony watches him scurry down the street and out of sight. He turns to the woman, who watches him with a raised eyebrow.

She's beautiful, now that he's standing in front of her, with her long inky black hair pulled in a high ponytail, bright green eyes, pale complexion. There's no make-up on her face, a pleasant surprise considering most of the women Tony knows or has become acquainted with uses cosmetics on their faces. Her pants aren't indecently tight, shows off the curve of her hips. Her shirt is red and gold, _his colors_ , and it highlights the way her waist tapers in.

The best part of all?

She looks nothing like Pepper.

"I could have handled that," she says lightly. She has an accent, British, and he's only slightly surprised when his cock twitches in interest. He has a thing for accents, sue him.

Tony nods. "Undoubtedly," he says, "but it would have been remiss in my duty if I didn't step in and help."

She cocks her head to the side. "You a copper?"

That makes Tony pause, stare at her in incredulousness. She doesn't look roaring drunk, so there's absolutely no reason why she doesn't recognize him. Unless… "You don't know who I am?" He can't help the shock in his voice.

She regards him seriously. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to?"

Tony stares at her, shocked, but then he grins. "I'm Tony," he says, sticking out a hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hari." Her handshake is strong, her hands a little calloused.

His thumb caresses her hand, and he leads her to the bar. "Let me buy you a drink," he says, waves for Dean.

Hari laughs a little. "You never answered my question," she points out.

"I like having this element of mystery," he confesses. His grin doesn't leave his face as Hari gets a shot, accepting his offer for a drink. "So, what brings you to the States?"

She downs the shot, shifts on the barstool. "I thought we were maintaining this mystery?" she teases. Hari's a cheeky thing, her grin utterly unrepentant.

Tony lets out a bark of laughter. "Touché. What I'm really trying to find out is are you here for business? Pleasure?"

Hari licks small droplets of alcohol from her lips, her eyes sparkling as he avidly watches the movement. "Pleasure," she purrs, "but I think you're already aware of that, aren't you, _Tony_?"

Okay, so he might have a thing for people saying his name. He stares at her with half-lidded eyes, leans close so he's in her personal space. "I don't typically assume anything, and you didn't seem as interested as your last partner was."

She snorts. "Yes, well, I want to have fun, and I can tell when someone's a waste of my time."

Tony leans in, puts a hand on hers. "I don't waste anyone's time," he says confidently.

"No?" She stares at him challengingly, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I'm also really good at putting my money where my mouth is," he assures her. He's Tony Fucking Stark, even if she doesn't know that (which still pleasantly baffles him), and his exploits are well known. His former bed partners happily went to the tabloids, earning him the reputation of being a playboy, but none have ever complained about leaving his bed unsatisfied.

"Prove it." Hari turns on the stool to face him, leans her back against the bar.

Tony grins. He brings his hand up to cup her face, pulls her in for a kiss. He starts slow, a gentle pressing of his lips against hers, and then he applies more pressure. Tony nips at her lips a little, tugs at the plump bottom one. She opens her mouth and he dives in, thoroughly explores with her tongue. She tastes like vodka, and he moves his hand into her hair.

Hari lets out a little moan that makes heat pool in his gut, his pants tightening a little. His hands find purchase on the swell of her hips, steps closer to her so that their bodies are pressed against her. It's perhaps a bit indecent, to get to this level in the bar, but he doesn't care.

Her own hands snake up his body until they're around his neck, and she kisses him back with wanton desire.

When they pull away, he's delighted to see she's panting heavily, her nipples hardened into nubs that strain against her shirt.

"I don't waste anyone's time," he repeats.

Hari laughs, but it's a deeper sound than before, raspy. "My apartment isn't too far from here," she offers.

Tony smirks, smug, and he slaps several large bills on the counter. "Well, what are we waiting for?"


	2. a vision in the morning

Hari wakes up quite suddenly. She blinks blearily, looks around in confusion. A glance outside her bedroom window shows the sun just beginning to crest over the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful oranges and blues and highlighting the Manhattan skyline. It's a relatively quiet morning, no New York City traffic filling the air quite yet.

If that's not what woke her, then what…?

There's movement to the side of her, and she turns to look at the man she brought over last night. His body is rigid, fists clenched in the sheets, grunting as if pained, and then he starts to tremble. Hari frowns in concern, leans over to shake him awake but then hesitates.

He never answered her last night if he was a copper or not, and although she doesn't have a lot of experience dealing with Muggle coppers, they can't be that much different from dealing with Aurors. And that means that waking him up can potentially make him violent.

She herself has woken up from nightmares, swinging and ready to fight off a cackling Bellatrix Lestrange that isn't even there anymore.

But then a whimper escapes Tony's mouth, and she doesn't hesitate anymore.

Hari places her hands on his shoulders, tries to gently shake him awake. "Hey," she says softly, "you're having a nightmare. Wake up; you're safe."

Tony doesn't wake up. He shudders, tries to pull away from her and curl in on himself. "No," he moans. Tony turns violently to one side.

Hari makes calming, shushing noises, starts to run her hands through his hair. "Hey, no, it's okay," she says. She doesn't know if this will work, only has experience soothing her children, but she can't just watch him suffer.

Tony wakes with a gasp, pants like he's been running a marathon, and when he looks at her, his eyes are wide and unseeing, full of horror, and he shakes his head. "They're coming," he croaks out. "God, they're coming, and we're not ready!"

"No, no, it's okay," Hari tries.

Tony shakes his head, sits up and cups her face. "We're so unprepared," he whispers, panicked, and his eyes glisten wetly though no tears fall. "I keep warning them, but nobody will listen. And now…there's not going to _be_ anything left to defend or avenge."

Hari's heart clenches painfully. She doesn't know what this man saw that still haunts him, doesn't know who he is or what he's been through, but she feels his pain. She kept saying until she was blue in the face about Voldemort's return, tried to get people to wake up and prepare themselves, but nobody listened. They buried their head in the sand, slandered her name in the paper, made a scapegoat of her.

They learned. As soon as Voldemort rose to power again, started rounding up the Muggleborn students like cattle, furthered his Pureblood agenda, there was no denying the Dark Lord's return. And because they spent so long pretending the Girl Who Lived had just gone insane, craved more fame and attention from having an adversary in her life and so just fabricated the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, it was _easy_ for Voldemort to take over.

And she was able to defeat him eventually, but how differently would things have been if people had listened to her? How many deaths could have been prevented?

"I'm sorry," she says sincerely.

He looks at her, and it's like he finally sees her. Tony says earnestly, "We need to prepare."

"We will," she assures him. She doesn't know what they're preparing for, or why they're doing it, but this is obviously important to him.

Tony sags in relief, smiles a little even as his eyes droop sleepily again. "We will," he repeats just before he buries his face in her stomach and wraps his arms around her waist. He falls asleep again almost immediately.

Hari doesn't move for a good fifteen minutes or so. She doesn't want to wake him, not when he's had an obviously difficult night, and so she just cards her hands through his hair.

He had seemed so suave, so put together when he picked her up at that bar, but Hari knows better than most that sometimes people survive their personal demons scarred, broken, needing just a bit of compassion and help.

It's no hardship to hold him when he obviously needs it, even if she doesn't know who he really is.

When he's sleeping deeply again, Hari carefully extracts herself from his grip. His face scrunches in displeasure, but he doesn't wake, turns over and buries his face in her pillow.

Smiling at a mission accomplished, Hari sneaks out of bed and quietly searches for something to wear. She pulls on a blank tank top and a clean pair of panties, absentmindedly tying her hair up in a messy bun as she walks to the kitchen.

Hari busies herself getting coffee ready. Her friends and family back in Britain will give her shit for it, but she's really developed a taste for coffee since she travelled all over the world and found most teas lacking. She still enjoys a good cuppa daily, typically with lunch and dinner, but a nice Italian roast in the morning seems to get her energized for her day like nothing else.

While the coffee maker whirls away, Hari grabs food for breakfast. She doesn't have everything she needs for a full English, but she's got enough to make her happy. Turning on the radio, Hari starts to cook as she sings along. She fries up the bacon and black pudding, grills the tomatoes with the sausages, and toasts a few slices of bread. Hari doesn't know if Tony will want to eat, but she's not going to deny him food if he chooses to join her.

Soon enough, the kitchen is fragrant with greasy, delicious breakfast food. The radio plays her favorite punk rock station, and she happily sings along. This is the kind of music the Dursleys had hated. She remembers their pinched expressions, the heated rants, their derision every time one of the "disrespectful youth" had the audacity to play the music within earshot.

Her listening to it had started as a small act of rebellion. It's not like there's any love lost between them, and if they were going to think the worst of her anyways, why not enjoy herself while she could? Rescuing one of Dudley's old radios from the trash had easily been one of the best decisions she could have made, and she soon found that she had actually enjoyed the music that her relatives vehemently protested.

"If I could find you now, things would get better," she sings as she grabs the coffee pot and a couple of mugs. "We could leave this town, and—MERLIN!"

Hari nearly drops the coffee and the mugs as she turns around to place them on the island and sees Tony staring at her, a bemused expression on his face. He looks at the food curiously, wearing nothing but his oil-stained jeans. Now that there's more light, she can fully appreciate how his body looks. She'd mapped it out last night with her hands and her tongue, but seeing it is another thing entirely.

He has some interesting scars near the center of his chest, probably from his line of work, and there are some very impressive muscles. His tan is also natural, she notices, eyeing the way the jeans hang rather low on his hips. His hair is no longer perfectly styled, a combination of him tossing and turning and her running her fingers through the soft strands.

He stares at the food again, then stares at her. "Ocean Avenue? Really?" he asks dryly, cocking an eyebrow. "God, I really hope you're at least twenty."

Hari laughs in surprise. "I'm going to be thirty-three," she assures him. She sets the coffee pot and the mugs down on the island, gestures to them. "Do you want some coffee? Food?"

Tony looks like he's internally debating. She's not at all offended; she herself has just taken off after different one night stands previously, and if he decided to take off, she'd just have breakfast and lunch for herself today.

"Coffee would be nice," he decides.

She smiles at him, pours a mug. She offers it to him, but when his eyes widen with something akin to panic, she smoothly transitions to placing it in front of him. "I have cream and sugar, if you like."

"Please don't defile my coffee like that. It needs to be as black as my soul." Tony picks up the mug, sips at it, and lets out an incredibly obscene moan.

"Funny, that's exactly how you sounded last night," she teases. She's only a little disappointed when he maintains his composure.

Tony stares at her over the rim of his cup, a cocky smirk on his lips. "I'm a man of my word," he says slyly, licks a few drops of coffee off his mug, and Hari's mouth dries at the positively _filthy_ look he gives her.

She remembers how talented his mouth was, clenches her thighs together as she suddenly feels hot and bothered. He notices, his smirk sharpening and giving him the appearance of a shark.

"Food," she says, clears her throat because of course that's when her voice decides to crack. She plates eggs and bacon and toast for him, walks around the island to set it in front of him. He sucks in a breath when he sees her only in her panties.

"I'm a bit hungry," he concedes lowly, runs a hand over her hips, grinning as she shivers. "I don't know about _food_ , though…"

Hari studies him. He either doesn't remember waking up earlier, or is ignoring it, and she isn't going to bring attention to such a vulnerable moment that, honestly, she shouldn't have witnessed. He doesn't look haunted anymore. No, he's staring at her, pupils blown, teeth bared predatorily.

Tony stands up, gets into her personal space until she's leaning with her back against the island and his arms framing her body. He still smells faintly of cologne, and something so distinctly male that she sucks in a shuddering breath. Her body reacts, her nipples hardening into peaks again, visible against the tank top she's wearing.

Hari leans in slowly, watching Tony's face for any indication of him changing his mind. When she presses her lips to his, her eyes flutter closed. His lips are soft, full, and his intricately trimmed goatee is soft, too. But then again, she knew that since his face was buried in more delicate places last night.

Hari pulls away, and he chases her lips before he can stop himself. She smiles cheekily at him, reaches for the waistband of his jeans and plays with it, ignoring the obvious bulge he's sporting.

"Quid pro quo is still a thing, right?" she breathes.

Tony answers by unbuttoning his jeans.

* * *

"You said something about food?" he asks after a few minutes.

Hari laughs, makes an involuntary grunt when he pulls out of her. "Yeah, but it's probably cold by now," she says.

Tony shrugs. "I've eaten worse." He doesn't bother pulling up his jeans again, just sits bare assed on the stool and grabs at the plate of food she had prepared before. "Not bad!"

Hari looks at him, looks at her ruined underwear on the floor, then shrugs and pulls off her tank top, taking a seat next to him. She grabs her own food, ignores his bemused but delighted expression, and starts eating. "I like to cook."

Tony hums around a piece of bacon. "I am one of the talented few that can burn water," he says good-naturedly.

Hari snorts. "Cooking was one of the few chores that I enjoyed having," she admits. "I probably could have opened a restaurant or a diner, but I don't think I'd enjoy it as much if I did that."

Tony makes a small hum of acknowledgment, finishes the food and drinks his now cold coffee. "So, this was pretty fun," he says as he gets up to retrieve his pants. He grabs the rest of his clothes from Hari's room, carelessly throws on the t-shirt and shoes. He's surprised when Hari hands him a piece of paper, glances at it to see her number scribbled on it.

"Just in case," she says, grins cheekily.

Tony smirks at her, his eyes traveling down her naked body. "Why, are you asking me to be a _booty call_?"

Hari laughs. "Well, I think you're aware by now that I don't like to waste my time," she says. "And last night was great. No harm in making it more than one night."

Tony nods his head, smirk still in place, and he folds the paper up and sticks it in his back pocket. "Until next time," he says, leans forward to give her one last searing kiss. He pulls her in close, hands secured around her waist, and she holds onto his arms for leverage.

And then he's gone, walking out the door, footsteps eventually disappearing down the hallway.

There's a sudden cold chill, and Hari turns around in alarm. She eyes the hooded figure that appeared quite suddenly by the island, cocks an eyebrow as it sits on the stool that Tony once occupied.

"Death," she greets warily, hyper aware of her own nudity now.

"Mistress," Death says, and for once it's not said mockingly but seriously, and that has the fine hairs on her arm standing at attention at once. "We need to speak."

And like that, the happy glow from her orgasm fades away.


	3. full of broken thoughts

The portal is open again. There are monsters flying down to the streets of New York City, people running around screaming in terror, being snatched up or torn apart by vicious, gleaming claws and sharp, bloody teeth.

The Avengers assemble as quick as they can. Steve tries to direct citizens to safety, enlists the help of police officers and EMTs to lead the people to the subways. There's too much panic, too many people scrambling for safety and being picked off one by one.

It's a massacre, utterly horrible, and this time there is no way to close the portal. They fight and they fight and they fight, but there is no scepter, there is no Tesseract, just a portal pouring out an endless sea of monsters into the world.

They're the Avengers, though, and they keep fighting as Natasha and Clint try to figure out a way to stop the endless assault.

Steve is the first to fall. Just before his shield can arc its way back to him, he's pierced by wicked claws, torn apart before he can even scream, a hot spray of blood and entrails coloring the sky.

Tony has no choice but to wipe the blood off the helmet and keep going. He repulses as many monsters as he can, JARVIS faithfully in his ear offering help, direction, battle plans upon strategies, and they all work, but Tony is one man. He can't handle them all.

Clint is next, half of him gobbled up by a large creature with multiple, slimy legs, the other half still standing next to Natasha, who lets out the most wounded, pain-filled scream of anguish he's ever heard from the Russian assassin. She goes out in a blaze of glory, bullets flying, tearing apart some monsters with her silver blades before she, too, is gone.

It's just Tony and Bruce left, the Hulk smashing this way and that. He's successful, but it's not enough.

 _They're_ not enough.

Earth's mightiest heroes? What a joke. God, they got _lucky_ with the Chitauri. That must have been the scouting party, testing Earth's defenses, sending reports back to the mothership so that the real invasion could begin.

That was the dress rehearsal, and this is opening act, finals, the endgame, and _they're_ _not fucking enough._

Before Tony can even blink, the Hulk is lifted off his considerable feet by a small army of monsters, and then he's being hauled away to the portal. Tony flies after him, screaming, his arm outstretched, repulsing some of the smaller monsters. It's too late; the Hulk is through the portal, out of sight, and the enemies keep coming.

Tony is the only one left.

There isn't anything else he can do, but he can't just stop fighting. He can't give up, won't lay down and concede defeat. He couldn't protect the Earth, so he'll have to settle for Avenging it.

There's a nuke overhead, flying to his tower, STARK printed boldly on the side. No, no, they can't!

He grabs the nuke, pushes it towards the portal. He did this once before, he can do it again. He can still leave behind some kind of Earth for everyone else.

 _Guys, I'm so fucking sorry_ , he thinks, cries, because they weren't a team for long, but they didn't deserve to go out the way they did.

"Sir, please," JARVIS begs, tries to convince Tony to stop his current plan.

"Take care of your brothers for me, J," Tony says, bites off a sob because he's never going to hear JARVIS again. He's never going to play fetch with the bots, never going to pretend to ingest another motor oil-infused smoothie.

"Sir!" JARVIS sounds urgent, insistent.

"Do me a favor, J, and get Pepper on the line."

JARVIS doesn't answer. The only sound Tony can hear besides the heavy thudding of his heart is the dial tone. It rings on and on, and Tony thinks it's going to be just like last time. He's going to call, and she's going to miss it.

But then she picks up, and he wants to sob in relief when he hears her voice. God, it's been so fucking long. The memory of what she looks like is going to be forever burned in his mind, the rich red of her hair, the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles, the sports bra and sweat pants she likes to wear to bed.

"Hey, Pep," he says before she can say anything. "I'm really glad you picked up. I just…I just needed to hear your voice one more time."

"Tony?" She sounds sleepy, like she woke up just for this phone call. Tony is so fucking happy that she's in California right now, away from this shitfest, this massacre.

"I'm going to make things right, okay? I'm going to _fix_ things, so you don't have to worry."

"…damn it, Tony, this is why I told you to give up the suit."

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, ignores the tears pouring out. Of course. Things are…things aren't the same between the two of them, and no alien invasion is going to make that different.

He doesn't bother responding, just flies through the portal, payload on his back, and he releases it. But things don't go as he expects. The nuke goes forward for a bit, and Tony is floating in the vast blackness that is open space, monsters swarming around him. He's ready for his fate; the suit is offline, and he can only hope that his death is quick.

And then the fucking nuke abruptly turns around, heads right for them.

He's going to be hit with a weapon of his own design.

It's like Afghanistan all over again.

There's a flash of intense, scorching heat, and then nothing. Tony is still floating, no longer in the suit, dressed in his favorite worn out jeans and faded Metallica shirt, but he's not surrounded in enemy territory anymore. He looks around, heart thudding wildly, but he doesn't see anything.

It's just barren, nothing, a stark landscape fit for a Stark.

A pointed cough has him whirling around. There's a figure there, hooded, scythe in skeletal hand.

"Seriously?" Tony can't help but ask. "The Grim fucking Reaper? _This_ is what my mind comes up with?"

"…would you prefer I wear my suit?" Death rasps.

Tony stops, thinks about it. "I honestly don't know."

Death lets out a laugh, and it sounds like broken bones rubbing against each other. It sends shivers down Tony's spine. "I am no figment of your imagination, and I do not have time to deal with your mortal sensibilities. You see all that will happen?" A skeletal hand gestures at the emptiness surrounding them. "You see what you stand to lose?"

Tony eyes Death warily. "There's more coming." It's not a question, but a frank statement. His worst fear spoken aloud, given life, validation that he's not fucking crazy.

He would have preferred to be crazy.

Death nods. "They must be stopped."

"How?" Tony demands. "How do we stop this? How can we prevent it?!"

"Find my Mistress," Death says.

"Your Mistress? What the fuck—?"

"The Mistress of Death will be able to help." Death walks over to Tony, a skeletal hand cupping the genius' pale face. "Together, my chosen two will have a chance against Thanos and his army."

Tony shivers slightly in fear. "Thanos?" he breathes. "Chosen two?"

"Did you think you survived all of this time because of _luck_? That I couldn't claim your life when you had that shrapnel creeping to your heart, when that poison slowly filled your veins and would have left you choking on your own blood?" Skeletal fingers pinch Tony's cheek. "No, no, you are one of my _chosen_. You're the only one that hasn't realized it yet."

Tony swallows thickly, audibly. He doesn't know what to make of this information, doesn't know what to say. If this is all a figment of his imagination, he really needs to lay off the whiskey. And yet, he can't dismiss it as a dream because what if it comes true? What if there are more good, innocent people that die because of him?

"Do I get a neat nickname too, or is it just your Mistress that gets the special privileges? Because, let me tell you, if I really am one of your chosen, I need a name, too," he quips, his voice a little shaky at first, but getting stronger towards the end.

Death pats his cheek. "Silly mortal," Death purrs. "You're my _Merchant_."

Tony freezes, and Death laughs again, almost mockingly this time. "Merchant of Death," Tony murmurs.

"That's right." Death places a hand on Tony's chest. "You have been here long enough, and I cannot say anything else. Find my Mistress. Defeat Thanos."

And with a hard shove, Tony goes flying backwards. He's falling…

…down…

…down…

…down…

Tony wakes with a violent gasp. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and it's like he can't fucking breathe. He can't suck in any air, can't breathe, his head swimming and his eyes watering.

"—ony? Tony, what's wrong?"

Pepper? Why the fuck is he hearing Pepper's voice?

Awareness starts to creep into Tony's brain, and he realizes his phone is in his hand, Pepper's face on the screen. To his horror, it looks like she was on the line with him for twenty minutes, and before she can say anything else, he firmly ends the call.

"JARVIS? What the fuck happened?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I tried to wake you, but you were most adamant about calling Miss Potts in the midst of your night terror," JARVIS explains. He sounds apologetic, concerned.

Tony angrily rubs a hand over his face. He runs his hands through his hair, lets out a frustrated grunt. "What time is it, J?"

"The time is five-forty in the morning. It is Friday, September 20, 2013. You are on your floor at the Avengers Tower in Manhattan, New York City."

Tony sighs, throws the sheets off and stands up. His hands twitch, jittery, and he just needs to tinker with something. He needs to think, and the best way for him to do that is to build, create, repair.

He's still shaky from his dream, so it is definitely not a shower day. Just thinking of water hitting his face makes him want to panic.

The bots whirr happily when he enters his workshop. He pats DUM-E's claw, tosses a ball that U hands him, snatches a ceramic mug before Butterfingers can drop it to the floor. Tony makes a beeline to the coffee machine, which JARVIS had already programmed to run, and takes a long drink.

Merchant of Death.

Tony has tried so fucking hard to get away from that title, no longer feels pride when he thinks of the damage his weapons had caused, can't see anything but the sea of blood of the innocent people caught in the crossfire. Shutting down the weapons sector of his company remains one of the greatest things he's ever done, and he stands by it. He refuses to be part of a system where there is no accountability.

That's what coming out as Iron Man was all about. There are people who believe that he did it for the fame, but to what purpose? Contrary to popular belief, he knows that not everything is about him. He has plenty of fame and notoriety from his own innovations, things he's built with his hands and ideas he's made come to life. He doesn't _need_ the fame that comes with being Iron Man.

And yeah, the idea of being a superhero is exciting, makes him remember a childhood where he could dream of doing something other than stepping into his father's too big shoes, where he always thought that maybe emulating Captain America would transfer some of his father's love onto him.

But the bottom line is that no matter what he does, no matter how much good he tries to put into this world, his ledger will never be wiped clean. He will forever swim in the blood of the victims of his inventions.

Tony Stark is the Merchant of Death.

Even Death says so.

But now he has confirmation that there's something more out there, that he's not going crazy. He needs to help prepare Earth because shit is about to go down, and it will be even worse than before.

Thanos. He has no idea who the fuck that is, but he has a feeling that Loki might since that squirrely bastard opened the fucking portal in the first place.

" _Find my Mistress_ ," Death had said.

But who the fuck was the Mistress of Death? There couldn't be some kind of warning, a sign, a flashing neon fucking light when he comes into contact with this other chosen one?

It irks him, having his worldview shifted and tilted so entirely. There was a time when everything could be explained with science, and if it couldn't be explained yet, he had faith that it was just something science hasn't yet uncovered. People used to believe vampires existed, but there was a rational, logical, _scientific_ explanation. Magic didn't exist but was used to explain the unexplainable until some brilliant thinker came along and offered them answers on a silver platter.

And now magic is a real thing. There's no protection for that, no way to block or defend yourself. He got lucky with his arc reactor making his mind unreachable to Loki's control. It might sound arrogant to some, but if Loki had been successful, the Chitauri would have won. He's not just labeled a genius; he'd _earned_ that title.

And maybe there's more magic out there. Maybe it's not all bad, all mind control and violation, the desecration of a person's self, but he's not exactly too keen to find out.

Tony shakes his head, pulls out his latest project and starts tinkering. He wants to create the Iron Man gauntlets so that he can call them if he's ever not in the suit. The bots are a delightful distraction, always puts a smile on his face, and he loses himself in the intricacies of wiring, blasting ACDC through his high-tech speakers.

He's not sure how long he's in his workshop, slaving away, but he knows he's not expecting a hand to start waving in his face.

Tony whirls around, his own hand raising as if a gauntlet is on and ready to fire a blast at the intruder.

Pepper rears back a little in shock, arms raised. She's wearing a dark grey pencil suit, a form-fitting one that hugs the curves of her slender figure. Her vibrant hair is pulled into a neat bun, professional, and she stares at him in mild, polite concern. Detached.

"What are you doing here?" he demands quietly, makes a slashing motion that abruptly cuts off the music. "How did you get in here?"

Pepper presses her lips in a thin line. "I still have a code to get in," she points out.

Tony nods his head in consideration. "J, please note in the future that nobody is allowed in here except myself and whoever I personally invite," he mutters. He crosses his arms, stares at her shocked expression. "What are you doing here?"

Pepper seems at a loss for words, flounders for a moment before she regains her composure. "Tony, please, this is childish."

Tony cocks an eyebrow. "If you came all this way from California to tell me that, I'm sorry, but a phone call would have sufficed." He returns to tinkering on the Iron Gauntlet.

They're not even together anymore, and she's still bringing up the same old shit. He's not being childish because he doesn't want her here. He left her in charge of his company because she does a damn good job at running it, but that doesn't mean she should have the same access to his personal, private areas like before. Things are too different now, too awkward. She'll never go back to, "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" He's never going to say again, "That will be all, Miss Potts."

Honestly, him moving to New York City should have been clue number one that he needs space from her. It's not too much to ask for her to respect these new boundaries that he is setting up.

" _You_ called _me_."

"It was a mistake, one that won't happen again. You know, you still haven't told me what you're doing here."

Pepper sighs, agitated. "There's a charity event for the Maria Stark Foundation this evening," she says. Her voice is stressed out, tired.

Tony hates that he still cares. "I'm aware," he lies. He frantically searches his memory for talks of this event, finds what he's looking for. "Tonight at seven, yes? You're not my PA anymore, you know. I can remember my own appointments."

Pepper flinches a little. "We both have to be there. Can we just…can we pretend like things are alright?"

"Things are perfect," Tony says, finally looks up at her. He stares into her eyes, the same ones that used to beam with love and happiness. They stare back, despaired, but stubborn.

Beautiful, stubborn Pepper Potts who is no longer his.

"They're not," she denies. "You can barely look at me—"

"I'm looking at you right now—"

"And we have to present a united front. This is an important charity tonight in collaboration with the Evans Company—"

"To create new schools for underprivileged children, _I know_ ," Tony snaps. He sets his tools down quietly, but he might as well have emptied a clip in front of her for how loud it seems. "I know, okay? We…we will be fine tonight. I have my tux ready, and we'll smile for the cameras, and do the same old dog and pony show. That's what you want, right?"

Pepper swallows thickly, stares down at her shoes. "I'm worried about you, Tony," she whispers. When she looks up, her eyes are a little glossy. It's the first show of emotion that she's shown towards him that isn't anger since the breakup, and he'd rather she didn't.

"You're the one that left," he says quietly. There's a heartbeat of silence, thick and tense and full of so many things that are going to remain unsaid. Then he nods, returns to working on the Iron Gauntlet. "You know the way out."

She makes her exit quietly, gracefully, head held high and not a hint of regret or doubt.

He hates that he kind of still loves her for it.


	4. a moment that's held in your arms

Hari just wants to get on with her life. She's done the whole saving the world bit, got the award for it, and now she just wants to do whatever catches her fancy. But Death's warning rings loud and clear in her head, and she rubs her aching, throbbing temples.

 _"Thanos is coming. And if you value life on Earth, you will find my Merchant. Only together will survival be a possibility."_

And, of course, Death can't tell her who the Merchant is. Because of course, Death already said too much. Oh, no, that would make things too _easy_.

Hari is pulled out of her thoughts when her mobile rings. It's coming from a pile on top of her desk, and she curses, tossing papers off to search for it. She picks it up just before the ringing stops.

"Hello?"

"Hari, you okay? You sound out of breath."

It's Dudley. When they were children, she never thought they would be able to salvage any kind of relationship. He was her primary tormentor, the reason why she couldn't make any friends and was absolutely miserable at school.

They're older now, with children of their own, and she understands why he behaved the way he did. It was up to his parents to curb his behavior, to teach him right from wrong, and they didn't. Uncle Vernon hated everything he deemed freakish and abnormal, and Aunt Petunia was too blinded by the unfinished business between her and her sister.

It was Dudley that made the effort to mend the relationship that he had gleefully denied when they were younger. Not wanting to disappoint his parents, or rather following their poor example, he tormented her, pushed her around, knocked things out of her hand and blamed her for his misdeeds.

There was a point in time when she thought she hated him. He had everything she wanted, loving parents, clothes that fit, friends, and yet he appreciated none of it. He loved to get her in trouble as if her life wasn't miserable enough without his help.

But then she saved his life.

It wasn't something she had to think about, something so engrained in her nature. Her saving people thing, as Hermione calls it. Putting herself between him and the dementor was as easy as breathing. Regardless of the bad blood between them, Hari wouldn't have left him to die. It was not and will never be in her nature.

She went on with her life, didn't even think about it beyond that travesty of a court trial.

Dudley, though, pondered it over. Her actions not only saved his life, but also shook his world up. Hari suddenly wasn't the heavy burden his parents had been forced to take in. These revelations followed him to Smeltings, and it was his boxing coach that helped put things into perspective.

Dudley struggled with coming to terms with his parents' horrible treatment of Hari, and how to make amends. He kept putting it off and off until Hari informed them of the magical war that broke out again, how she was in the middle of it, how they would be targeted simply because of their shared blood.

It sent his parents into a tantrum, but it shook Dudley to his core.

His cousin, puny little four-eyed Hari Potter, was the one responsible for ending a war that had killed his Aunt Lily and Uncle James. There was a high possibility that she could die.

He would never get to make amends.

The handshake didn't convey everything he wanted to say, everything he needed to get off his chest. "I don't think you're a waste of space," he'd said, and he meant it. Still means it.

But this was the last time he'd see his cousin, and he was shocked at how raw and ragged that thought left him feeling. They were never close, far from it, and they probably wouldn't ever be. Despair and regret pierced his heart so acutely, so viscerally.

It was months, a small lifetime, before Hari contacted her relatives again, only informing them of her victory and planning on forever disappearing from their lives again.

Dudley refused to let this new opportunity go, however, and reinserted himself into her life. He apologized, gave her space, but made it clear that he fully intended to have an actual relationship with her, wanted to make up for being a shitty kid and make newer, happier memories.

It was a long road, rough and bumpy, but Hari is glad she decided to give him a second chance.

"Yeah, I'm good," she says. "Just had to find my phone. What's up?"

"I was just letting you know that we'll be there shortly. Perhaps the next twenty minutes," Dudley says. There's childish squealing on the other end of the line, bringing a smile to her face.

"Excellent! I'll be seeing you soon, then." They exchange pleasantries, hang up.

Hari sets her phone down and grabs her wand. With a flick of her wrist, pillows fluff themselves, dishes start washing, and the broom starts sweeping. She throws on her comfy clothes, black leggings and an oversized red shirt that exposes the straps of her sports bra.

They have an event to attend this evening, one that Hari and Dudley are both extremely passionate about, and there is no point in Dudley renting out a hotel room when she has the space now that her children are back in Hogwarts.

Evans Company was a gift from her father to her mother. It operates entirely in the Muggle world, a way for her mother to always be connected to her roots. Moved by her old friend Severus' impoverished circumstances when they were children, she used the company to give other underprivileged children an advantage in this world.

When Hari inherited the company at twenty-one, she saw no reason to change these goals. Dudley's help has been invaluable. He studied business in university, pushed into it by his father to one day take his place with Grunnings, and Hari herself had been out of touch with the Muggle world for so long that it would take forever to learn what she needed to fully take over.

So, they work together as co-CEOs, building schools in poorer neighborhoods, funding scholarships, providing support for families in need. It is one of the most rewarding, most fulfilling things Hari has ever done.

Sharp knocking interrupts her thinking, and Hari goes to answer the door. She's immediately nearly bowled over.

"Aunt Hari!" Heather Dursley squeals as she leaps into Hari's arms.

Hari laughs, hoists the five-year-old up onto her hip. "You've gotten so big," she says, pokes the little girl's button nose.

"She won't stop," Dudley complains, putting his luggage against the wall. He presses a kiss to Hari's cheek and greets her, "You look well, cousin."

Hari grins. "Do I? Well, that's good. I always convince more sods to give us their money when you say that." She's not a fan of big parties, never will be, but their goals, what this company is working towards, it means the world to her, and although she has the money to fund everything herself, Dudley consistently reminds her that that's not an ideal business model. She will schmooze if she must, but she will give him shit the entire time.

Dudley rolls his eyes. "You'll be fine," he says.

Hari hugs Heather tighter to her. "You hear that, Heather-Feather? Your daddy is being mean to me."

Heather giggles, wraps her arms around Hari. "I'll save you, Aunt Hari!"

"Let's hide!"

Dudley sighs, shaking his head with a smile on his face as Hari runs away with his daughter, both of them giggling maniacally. They hide behind the couch, Heather's blonde pigtails visible just to the side.

"I will find you," Dudley says menacingly, "and I will tickle you."

* * *

Hari sighs as she puts on her expensive gown. The fundraiser is a black-tie event, which are only slightly better than white-tie events in Hari's opinion. Her wonderful ( _traitorous_ ) friends were all too happy to drag her shopping, despite knowing how much she abhors it, because Hermione likes to live vicariously through Hari, and Fleur and Ginny think Muggle fashion has excellent gowns.

After hours and hours of laborious searching, they found the perfect gown.

The gown is Gryffindor red, because Hari loves to represent her alma mater, with both tank straps and off the shoulder straps. The sweetheart neckline shows off her cleavage, the fitted bodice and empire waistline shows the way her waist tapers in and her hips flare out. Hari loves it because the material is so soft, wispy and elegant, falling just past her knees. It reminds her of the robes she wore for the Yule Ball her fourth year, not that those even fit anymore.

Her outfit is complete with jewelry, a necklace her ex-husband bought for her for their one-year anniversary, earrings that were a gift from Sirius shortly before her fifth year started, short strappy heels, everything gold of course. Never one for makeup, Hari wears only a small amount of eyeliner and crimson lipstick.

Dudley looks pretty sharp, too, in his tuxedo, neat bow tie contrasting the crisp white shirt.

"Ready, cousin?" he asks as he adjusts his cufflinks.

Hari smiles, shrugs her shoulders. "Does our chariot await?"

Dudley snorts, extends an arm for her to link her own through. "Yes, the limo is here."

The car ride over is uneventful, although Dudley looks out the window and points out the attractions that he wants to take Heather to see. Hari offers her own input on what's good, based off Teddy's preferences, of course.

There are cameras going off when Dudley helps Hari exit the car. They pose for pictures, all brilliant smiles and happy expressions, and then Dudley leads Hari inside. The hall is large, grand with its magnificent arches, crystal chandeliers. Waiters offer them flutes of champagne, which they grab with gratitude.

Hari's not much of a champagne drinker, but she would look out of place if she did not have at least one drink.

They walk around the hall, greeting people with more money than sense, laughing and joking and schmoozing. It reminds her of the parties Uncle Vernon used to host, leaves her feeling a little dirty. Dudley was groomed for this, does it with an easy smile on his face that leaves more than a couple of women sparkly-eyed and blushing.

"Hari, this is Pepper Potts, the CEO for Stark Industries," Dudley introduces.

Hari recognizes the name. When they'd decided to start building schools in America, Dudley was the one to point out who would be their best bet partnering up with. The Maria Stark Foundation was at the top of their list. She let Dudley handle the meetings with Stark Industries while she did some field work, looking for areas where schools were needed. New York City was the first stop, since it is such a large city. So far, they have plans to build schools in Brooklyn, State Island, and the Bronx.

Pepper Potts has on an elegant black cocktail dress, her red hair flowing down to her shoulder blades in carefully styled ringlets. Her eyes are outlined in black, eye shadow and blush highlighting the features of her face. She looks like a Weasley, and Hari finds herself already becoming comfortable with her.

Hari smiles at the pretty woman, extends a hand. "Miss Potts, it's a pleasure to meet you," she says.

Pepper smiles at her politely, shakes her hand firmly. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Potter, truly. We're so happy to be a part of something so wonderful." She opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze is caught on something behind Hari. "And this here is Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Industries."

Hari turns and nearly chokes on her own spit.

Tony is a vision in the tailored tuxedo he has on, his hair perfectly coiffed. There's a glass of scotch in his hand, a cocky, easy-going smile on his face. His eyes widen a little when he recognizes her, and then they travel down her body in such an obvious look over that Hari has to stop herself from squirming.

She extends a hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stark. I'm Hari Potter, co-CEO to the Evans Company. This is my cousin and co-CEO, Dudley Dursley."

Tony lifts her hand to his mouth, places a soft kiss that sends electric sparks up her arm and down her back. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Potter," he says smoothly. He turns to Dudley, gives him a firm handshake. "It's nice to meet the people behind this project."

Dudley smiles, flicks his gaze between the two of them. "My Aunt Lily founded the Evans Company; we're just glad to continue the work she was passionate about, and it's become our passion as well." He turns to Pepper, whose smile has gotten a little tight at the corners, offers her his arm. "Would you care to dance?"

"Yes, please." Pepper clears her throat when it cracks. She nods stiffly at Tony and Hari, and lets Dudley lead her away.

"Well, we can't be outdone by them, can we?" Tony says, grabs her champagne flute and puts it on a passing waiter's tray.

He leads her expertly on the dance floor, gently holding one hand in his, his other hand placed on her hip. Hari is so thankful Fleur drilled dancing lessons into her, otherwise she would be as clumsy as a newborn waif.

"So," she says, "you are _not_ a copper."

Tony smiles. "No, I'm not," he agrees. "My father built Stark Industries from the ground up. I was running it for a while, but Miss Potts does a better job of it than I do."

Hari hums in acknowledgement. "My father helped create the Evans Company for my mother," she explains. "She was a warm, caring person that liked to help people, or so I'm told." At Tony's questioning glance, she says, "My parents both died when I was one. I was raised with Dudley and his parents."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmurs. "My parents both passed as well, but I was already an adult when that happened."

He dips her in a graceful arc, lifts her up slowly, sensually. She shakes her head softly. "We have a lot in common."

Tony nods, then changes the subject. "I can't help but notice that you enjoy wearing my colors."

Hari laughs, the dour mood being chased away. "Oh, I suppose you have a monopoly on red and gold then?"

"I do, as a matter of fact. Anyone who wants to wear it has to pay a fine." His tone is teasing, the air between them becoming charged, electric.

Her crimson smile is sly, makes her look like a vixen. "Maybe I only bought this dress so you could take it off."

He quietly sucks in air, gives her a heated glance. "You're playing a dangerous game, Miss Potter."

"Perhaps," she agrees, "but I only play when I know I'll _win_."

Before Tony can say anything, Dudley reappears with Pepper, who looks every bit as stiff as she had before. "It's time for us to make our speech," he tells her.

Hari extracts herself from Tony's side, gives him an innocent smile. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, for the lovely dance."

He salutes her with two fingers, waltzes over to Pepper. "Let's get this show on the road."

Dudley leads Hari to the podium that the hall manager set up, whispers in her ear, "Cousin, were you just _flirting_ with _Tony Stark_?"

Hari flashes him a grin. "Cousin, are you trying to besmirch my honor? I'm appalled, really." She leans closer to him, says, "We've already done much more than mere _flirting_."

Dudley gives her a put-upon sigh, shakes his head. "I hope you know what you're doing," he says.

She remembers his mouth, his fingers, those glorious hips that know how to move to make her see stars. "Oh, I do," she whispers, shivering.

Together they deliver a speech that has many people handing them large checks, congratulating them on continuing such a noble cause. Tony surprises them by donating state-of-the-art computers for every school they build in America. He doesn't run it by Pepper, if her suddenly wide eyes are any indication, and he seems utterly unbothered by it.

He only has eyes for Hari, stares at her with just barely hidden desire. Hari busies herself thanking the donors together with Dudley as the party draws to a close. Pepper and Tony also thank the party goers, with Pepper becoming more reserved, more frigid as there are less and less people around. Tony's own smile starts to become more fixed, and soon the two are quietly snapping at each other, with Hari catching snippets of their biting responses.

"—an't mix business and pleasure, Tony, you _know_ this—"

"—didn't know who she was, and it's not like it's any of your _business_ —"

"Stark Industries _is_ my busine—"

" _Enough_ ," Tony hisses, his smile dropping as he fixes her with a hard stare. "That's enough, okay? You are no longer involved in my personal life. I know it's hard to believe, but I am a grown adult capable of making my own decisions, and I don't need your input."

There are still stragglers, and they start turning to the pair, eyes gleaming as they scent the drama about to unfold.

Pepper tries to save face, smiles, but it's obviously plastic, her eyes a little narrowed.

Hari doesn't know what's going on between them, honestly doesn't care to know, but it's hard to ignore their conversation when it's obviously about her.

"Is there going to be a problem here?" she interjects, keeping her smile wide and her expression cheery.

Tony and Pepper turn towards her in unison. Tony seems to calm down at her presence, his shoulders relaxing just ever so slightly. "Everything's fine," he says, smirks at her. His eyes are troubled, a glimmer of pain and despair visible.

"No problem here," Pepper says frostily. She doesn't look as welcoming as before, her fists clenching tightly around the fabric of her dress.

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "Right," she says, slightly disbelieving. Still, she's dealt with more unpleasant people before. "Well, thank you for a lovely evening. It's been more successful than I could have dreamed, and I hope, together, we can accomplish more."

Tony looks charmed, offers her his arm. "I'll be happy to give you a ride home," he says suavely, ignoring the way Pepper tenses next to him.

Dudley clears his throat a little. "I'll stay for a little while longer," he says, smiles at them. "Don't stay out too late."

Hari rolls her eyes, accepts Tony's arm. There are more pictures taken from the few paparazzi that stayed behind, hopeful for any bit of news and gossip, but they look stunning together, a beautiful, powerful couple.

"We'll be all over the news tomorrow," she remarks as he leads her to a ridiculously expensive car. He opens the door for her, helps her in it.

"I'm always all over the news," he replies, sliding into the driver's side and taking off.

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "How have I never seen you before?" she wonders out loud. She buries her face in her hands with an embarrassed groan. "I thought you were a copper!"

Tony laughs as he begins maneuvering through the Manhattan traffic. "I have to say, it was refreshing to meet someone who didn't know me or my reputation."

"Oh? And what is your reputation?"

"Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist." His voice is flat, matter-of-factly.

"Well," she says quietly, "I hope I didn't get in the way between you and Miss Potts." Her tone is light, questioning, but there's a hint of steel behind it, because she's all about having no strings attached fun, but not with people already in a committed relationship.

Tony licks his lips, shakes his head. "No," he says, clears his throat. "You didn't get in the way of anything. Pep— _Miss Potts_ and I have gone our separate ways long before I met you."

He doesn't offer more of an explanation, and she doesn't ask further.

After a moment of silence, she says, "We should go to Coney Island."

Tony thinks about it, shrugs and alters his course. She isn't sure where he was initially taking her, but soon enough they're weaving between cars at impressive speeds. She laughs breathlessly, lowers the window a little to feel the wind in her hair. Hari will forever be something of an adrenaline junkie, and it seems like Tony is too.

Coney Island isn't terribly busy, but it's not the boardwalk she wants to go on. Gleefully, Hari kicks off her heels and leaves them in Tony's car, stepping out and running towards the beach. Tony snorts, follows her, and just when he's within arm's reach, Hari takes off in a run, holding onto the ends of her gown to give her legs more movement.

Tony laughs and gives chase, and then they're just running over the beach, forgetting about the awkward ending to the night. She just barely manages to escape his clutches, dancing to the right, ducking to the left.

When he finally catches her, they're both panting, happy flushes across their cheeks. Tony doesn't look so bothered anymore, stares at her with amusement and just a hint of wonder.

"I won," he says confidently.

"I let you," she counters, shrugging and walking backwards until her back hits the wooden support of the pier.

Tony grins, leans in close. His breath is hot against her ear, makes her shiver. "I think I deserve some kind of prize," he murmurs.

Hari bites her lip, looks at him through her lashes. "I did say I only bought this dress so you could take it off."

Tony grins devilishly.

* * *

The moonlight bathes them in a soft glow, but it doesn't hold a candle to the way Tony looks, relaxed and at ease, hair ruffled, flushed.

Hari blinks, captivated, and then she leans in to give him the softest peck on the lips. Tony looks taken aback for a moment, honestly surprised, but then he kisses her back.

"I should get you home," Tony murmurs when he pulls back.

Hari nods her head, fixes her dress but doesn't put her sandy panties back on. Instead, she stuffs them into the back pocket of Tony's ass, making sure to squeeze a little. "Your reward," she says cheekily. She shivers a little, and Tony shrugs off his jacket, drapes it over her shoulders.

The walk back to the car is quiet, peaceful, and it isn't until he helps her into the car that Hari realizes he held her hand the entire time. She misses its warmth the car ride home.


	5. take me by the hand

Tony isn't at all surprised by the morning papers. There's a variety of headlines, most of them sensational, but all basically say: "TONY STARK MOVING ON!" He has to hand it to the paparazzi; they chose excellent pictures from the gala. On the left is a picture of him and Hari, dancing.

It's bizarre because he doesn't really know her other than in the biblical sense, but the two of them only have eyes for each other in the picture. He's utterly relaxed, an easy-going smile on his face, and she looks completely captivated, like there's nowhere else she'd rather be but in his arms.

She looks at him the way Pepper used to.

And on the right is a picture of him and Pepper, obviously in the middle of their very heated discussion last night. This is the Pepper he's become accustomed to lately, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed, so apparently displeased, unhappy, looking at Tony like he's the cause of all her problems.

The gossip rag speculates, "Last night, Tony Stark and Hari Potter, co-CEO of Evans Company, shared quite the dance! The pair (left) can be seen on the dance floor, grabbing the attention of everyone at the gala. Unfortunately for the pair, Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and Tony Stark's ex, was not happy with our favorite superhero moving on, and the pair (right) were seen exchanging unpleasantries. Will this mean drama for the budding romance?"

Another tabloid has an even better image, one of Hari and Tony walking back to his car from their rendezvous underneath the pier, hand in hand, his jacket chivalrously thrown over her shoulders, their bare feet squishing against the sand. It looks like a romantic walk under the cover of night, secretive, personal.

Tony stares at the picture curiously. He hadn't seen any paparazzi at the beach last night, although they're incredibly lucky pictures weren't taken until they were decent again. For a second, he wonders if Hari had tipped off the papers. It's not like she has a reason or need to, but Tony has been blindsided before and experience has left him wary.

"This is a mess," Tony says under his breath, sighing.

"Sir, Colonel Rhodes is on the line," JARVIS informs him.

Tony accepts the call, greets, "Honeybear!"

"Tones, have you neglected to tell me something? Me, your best friend in this entire universe?"

Tony gasps. "Why, I _never_! I'm so appalled you would even say that, platypus!"

Rhodey sounds amused. "Okay, okay, I get it. You were wanting to see where this goes, and then you were going to tell me. Nah, that's cool. I can respect that," he muses. "But, you know, I _did_ tell you about Gina back in college, and then there was Carol, and—"

Tony snorts, barks out a laugh. "In all seriousness, my boo-boo schnoockums—"

"If you _ever_ call me that again—"

"There is nothing going on between me and Hari. I hardly know her."

"Ya know, a picture is worth a thousand words, and this picture here says you're a lying liar who lies."

"Well, I mean, I _do_ know her, but that's strictly in the biblical sense, if you catch my drift," Tony says slyly, the leer audible in his voice. "But, in my defense, I didn't know who she was, _she_ didn't know who _I_ was, and we've been hooking up for about a couple of weeks now."

"How the hell does someone not know you these days?" Rhodey demands incredulously.

"Right?" Tony flops backwards on his bed. "It was kinda nice, though. Having that anonymity, no expectations placed upon my character."

There's silence at the other end of the line, brief, and then Rhodey says softly, "You look really happy in this picture, Tones. It's a good look for you; your best one yet."

Tony smiles at the ceiling, clears his throat and says, "Awww, _gumdrop_ …"

"Are you sure you're just getting on with her biblically?"

Tony shrugs, remembers how she looked last night. She can rock red and gold, was a vision in that dress, absolutely stunning. He was taken aback when he saw her, not expecting her to be at an event of that caliber. Most rich people, himself included, tended to flaunt their money, but if she had never been at the event, he never would have been able to tell.

He didn't spend any time exploring her apartment, too busy indulging himself in her bedroom and the kitchen, but he remembers it being modest, wide open kitchen, comfortable living room, enough doors to lead him to believe there were at least three bedrooms.

It was comfortable furnished, but the only extravagance he could see were the picture frames that liberally covered her walls.

"As of right now, yes," he says. "Don't get me wrong, she's a beautiful woman, but I learned the hard way that deadly things come in pretty packaging."

Natasha taught him that when she infiltrated his company.

Pepper taught him that when she metaphorically ripped his heart out.

"Tones," Rhodey says softly, "you've been fucked over more than most. Sunset, Rumiko, Stone." He pauses, continues, "Pepper."

"Oh yes, please, list _all_ of my failed relationships."

"But that doesn't mean it's always going to happen. And if you keep pushing people away, you might push away something great. Now, I'm not saying this woman is going to be the only person out there, or even that you _should_ date her. I'm just saying you can't be happy unless you work for it, and that might mean letting things happen naturally."

Tony sighs, and if it sounds a little choked, a little thick, Rhodey is polite enough to ignore it. "We had a nice time last night," he concedes. "I don't know how the paparazzi got that picture of us on the beach. I didn't see any of them once we left the party, but anything can happen."

"…do you think she tipped off the paparazzi?" Rhodey asks.

Tony shrugs. "I have no idea. It doesn't really make sense. She has plenty of her own money and finding out who I am didn't seem to change anything in the way she acted with me."

Rhodey hums in acknowledgment. "Well, if she did tip off the paparazzi, I will destroy her. I have contacts."

"Oh, my murderous bar of chocolate, _I'm_ your destruction contact."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Tones. Just say the word."

Tony laughs, feeling light and so inexplicably warm. "You're so good to me, sugarplum."

Rhodey snorts. "Listen, I have to let you go, but remember what I said, okay? If something good comes out of your booty call, let it."

They hang up, and Tony pauses for a moment before standing up. He reaches into his bedside table drawer, rustles around for a familiar slip of paper. Hari's number is scrawled over it, surprisingly messy handwriting for a lady that makes him smile for some stupid reason.

He never put it into his phone, never had the chance to.

"J, call this number and save it in my contacts," he says as he rattles off the number. It rings and rings, and for a second, he thinks it's going to go to voicemail. He's about to tell JARVIS to cut it off when the call is answered.

"Hello?" The voice is British, but male; not Hari. He briefly wonders if he got the number wrong when the person continues, "This is Hari's phone, Dudley speaking. May I ask who's calling?"

Dudley, her _cousin_. The relief that hits him is sudden, unexpected.

Tony clears his suddenly dry throat. "Uh, yeah, hi, this is Tony. Is Hari around?"

There's the giggling of a little girl in the background, and he can hear Hari's voice but can't make out what she's saying.

"Tony Stark?" Dudley clarifies. He doesn't sound shocked, makes a small noise of consideration. Then he's calling out, "Hari, you have a phone call!"

It doesn't take very long before the phone is passed to the owner, and she says, "Hari speaking."

"Hey Hari, it's Tony. Listening, I was wondering if you saw the news yet?"

"No. Should I have?" She sounds confused.

"No, no, not a big deal. Hey, would you be available to catch lunch with me today?" Tony bites his lip. He hasn't felt this awkward since his first day at MIT. Jesus, where is the suave playboy he used to be?

"Lunch? Of course, that'd be great," she says, surprised but pleased. "Do you have any place in particular that catches your fancy?"

They make their arrangements, Tony awkwardly stumbling through a few sentences, randomly tongue-tied, but when they hang up, he stares at the time for a few moments before standing up.

He needs a shower before their…date? Is it a date? His fuck buddy meet-up?

Tony doesn't know.

That doesn't stop him from feeling _nervous_.

Tony is already seated at a booth when Hari walks in through the door. Her long black hair is tied in a ponytail, a few wisps framing her face. It's not terribly hot or cold today, and she's dressed for the weather, overly large sunglasses hiding those pretty green eyes, strategically ripped skinny jeans clinging to her legs, a long sleeved off-the-shoulder brown shirt hugging her frame, short heels adding just a bit of height.

Tony himself is dressed rather casually, wearing one of his favorite pair of jeans that have become practically molded to his ass, a grey t-shirt accentuating his biceps, comfortable sneakers.

She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, surveys the room. Her eyes light up when she sees him, and she makes a beeline for the table. Tony stands up to greet her.

"I've never been here before," she says as she hugs him, presses a soft kiss against his cheek. She smells like lilies and jasmine, and he tries to subtly inhale as much of that scent as he can.

"It's a nice little bistro," he tells her as they sit. "It had to close for a while after the, um, invasion, and I swear, I went through withdrawals." He flips through the menu, changes the subject quickly because talking about the invasion is never something on his agenda. "If you don't mind a recommendation, their roast chicken is to die for."

The waiter comes, the lack of starry eyes a testament to how often Tony comes here, takes their food and drink orders, and Hari relaxes against her chair. "I was a little surprised when you called me to lunch," she admits.

Tony grimaces a little, folds his hands in front of him. "I wanted to apologize about last night, as well as the news this morning," he says quietly. "They should be covering the new schools being built, not our…supposed budding romance."

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "I'm assuming you're referring to your…disagreement with Miss Potts?" She shakes her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. And when you're in my line of work, you're bound to make the papers. I'm not terribly concerned with it."

"It wasn't a disagreement that should have happened, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything like that."

The waiter reappears with their drinks, and Hari sips at her iced tea delicately. "I wasn't uncomfortable. I've dealt with people far worse than your jealous ex-girlfriend." She crosses one leg over the other. "Although, if you don't mind my asking, why did you break up? It didn't exactly seem like either of you are particularly happy about that."

Tony sighs, wishes he had a scotch instead of Pepsi. He opens his mouth, hesitates, not quite sure how to explain the clusterfuck that was his relationship with Pepper. "We had some fundamental differences that wouldn't change," he says slowly. He looks at her, asks, "Did you ever look me up?"

Hari shakes her head. "No," she says honestly. "I know you're the owner of Stark Industries, but that's pretty much it." At his incredulous stare, she holds her hands up defensively. "I don't watch the telly, and I didn't think to google you. My knowledge of you is primarily about your company, since we are currently doing business together, and that's it. I thought if you wanted to share anything else, you would."

Tony smiles a little at the consideration, shakes his head. "It's a little weird, someone not knowing about me and my life," he admits. "It's a good weird, though. Keeps up that element of mystery we talked about." He winks playfully for a moment, is gratified when she smiles, but then he sobers up a bit. "To make an incredibly long story short, Stark Industries used to build weapons. I was kidnapped at a weapons demonstration, and instead of building the missiles they demanded, I built a suit to escape. I shut down the weapons sector of Stark Industries, and continued to use the suit, but I wanted to do good in the world. I didn't want to just be remembered as a war profiteer; and when I saw those terrorists using my weapons, I decided to stop them myself. So, I became Iron Man."

Hari cocks her head to the side a little. "Iron Man," she murmurs. "Are you some kind of superhero?"

Tony's small laugh of disbelief is covered when the waiter comes with their food. He bites into his chicken, can't help the small groan that escapes his lips. A quick drink of Pepsi helps wash it down, and he pats his mouth with the cloth napkin. "Yes, I'm a superhero," he says. His eyes dim a little. "Miss Potts was my assistant before I became Iron Man. Being a superhero is dangerous work, and I don't exactly have a good track record of making smart decisions. I endangered my life, endangered her life, and in the end, when it came down to choosing between her and the suit, well… She's gone, and I'm still Iron Man."

Hari looks at him with sympathy. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "I used to work in law enforcement back in Britain," she admits. "It's not a job that just anyone can do, and it's hard for the families of those that can. I took a break when my children were young but went back for a bit when they were a little older."

"You have kids?" Tony asks, shocked. " _Plural_? As in more than one? I…I couldn't even tell." _MILF_ , he thinks, and then has to shake his head to clear that thought from his brain.

Hari smiles, amused. "I have two boys, Teddy and Scorpius. Teddy is fifteen, and Scorpius is thirteen." Her smile dims a little. "I got really hurt when I was on an assignment when they were small, maybe seven and nine. They were so worried, so scared for me. I quit my job soon after and devoted my attention to Evans Company full time."

"So, what you're saying is I should have given up the suit." His stomach drops, and he shifts around unpleasantly. He's suddenly not hungry, moves around the food on his plate with a fork.

"Not at all," Hari says strongly.

Tony's eyes widen a little in surprise. "I'm a little lost, then," he admits.

Hari looks at him earnestly. "I am never going to stop helping people," she says. "Badge or not, it is in my nature to help someone in need. That's not ever going to change." She shrugs, looks at him with such understanding that he feels his withered, bruised heart do a little somersault. "With or without the suit, you will always be Iron Man. That's who you are, and I think it's unfair and unrealistic to expect you to give it all up. From the sound of it, there is no Iron Man without Tony Stark. To be fair to Miss Potts, she probably didn't realize what she was getting into, but that doesn't make her ultimatum right or fair."

Tony doesn't realize he's staring at her slack-jawed until drool threatens to leave his mouth, and he promptly snaps it closed. "You're…" He clears his throat, stares down at his food. "Nobody's ever quite put it that way before."

Hari finishes off her iced tea. "Maybe you haven't been listening to the right people," she says.

Tony nods his head slowly, almost mechanically chews his food. "You're really unlike most people I've ever met before," he blurts out. "You're as rich as I am, but you don't flaunt your money. You didn't know who I was, and now you do, but it didn't warrant more than a blink of your eye."

Hari smiles hesitantly. "Is that…good?"

Tony rests his chin on his fist, elbow on the table. "I'm trying to decide," he says honestly. "It's…certainly refreshing."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she says firmly.

They venture to safer, lighter topics for the rest of lunch, laughing and teasing each other. Tony learns that Teddy is actually Hari's godson, that she took him in when his parents died and his grandmother couldn't take care of him. He learns that she went to a posh boarding school in Scotland and that her placement in that school, Griffin-something, had red and gold for their colors and that's why she wears them all the time.

He finds himself telling her about MIT, about how he met his platypus when Rhodey stopped these douchebags from taking his bag. He tells her about writing DUM-E's code, the first time he came online, his brothers that followed. Tony is used to talking about himself, can do it for hours, but this time his audience is genuine, wants to know more, leans in and gives him her undivided attention.

Talking to her is so easy, and before he knows it, they're polishing off dessert. Tony waves at the waiter for the check.

"I'll have to come back here," Hari says contentedly. She rubs her stomach. "I think I have a food baby now."

"If you want, uh, we could make this a thing," he offers quietly.

Hari smiles at him. "Yeah, we could do that." Her smile turns slightly wicked as she says, "And, you know, we could keep our current arrangement, too."

Tony throws his head back and laughs, feeling lighter than he has in a while.

The waiter comes back with the check. Tony is reaching for his card, but before he can give it to the waiter, Hari is depositing her credit card into the black sleeve and handing it back.

Tony stares, surprised, and he watches as the waiter disappears with her card. "…you know I have money, right?" he asks.

Hari snorts. "You know I don't give a shite, right? Don't worry; it's my treat today." She winks at him.

Tony doesn't remember the last time someone else covered the check, and he stays a little baffled when Hari gets the receipt and signs for it. It's only when she stands up to head out of the bistro that he snaps out of it, offers her his arm and leads her outside.

"You want to go for a walk? We should go for a walk," he says. He doesn't wait for an answer, starts to lead her down the block towards Central Park. She doesn't protest his sudden demand of her time, smiles indulgently and talks as they walk.

Tony hopes it means she doesn't want their little not-date-thing to end, either.


	6. maybe we'll turn it all around

Hari gives one last kiss to Heather, pokes her button nose. "You behave for your daddy, okay?" she says seriously. "You're the little lady of the house, and you need to keep an eye on him for me, make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Can you do that?"

Heather nods her head solemnly, more serious than any five-year-old should be. "I promise," she swears, offers Hari her pinky.

Hari hooks their pinkies together, and they shake on it, as powerful as an Unbreakable Vow. Dudley is rolling his eyes, glancing at his watch. The airport is bustling with activity, but then again, LaGuardia is always packed with people rushing to catch flights and running to last minute gate changes.

"It's almost time for us to go," Dudley says. He stares indulgently at his daughter, then levels a flat stare at Hari. "Please try to behave, cousin."

Hari gives him a hug, pats his back. "Hey, trouble finds me, not the other way around," she protests.

Heather sniffles a little. "I'll miss you, Aunt Hari," she says. Her green eyes, so like Hari's and Lily's, are watery, her bottom lip tugged downwards in a pout.

"Aw, no tears, Heather-Feather!" Hari wipes them away before they can fall. "I'll be seeing you over the holidays!"

Heather looks a little hopeful. "With Scorp'us and Teddy?"

"You betcha!"

They walk until Dudley and Heather are at their gate. Hari waits until they board their plane, watches as it takes off, and then she takes a taxi home. The visit was far too short, probably because it was a business trip instead of a vacation, but she wasn't lying when she told Heather she'd see them over the holidays. She likes to show Teddy and Scorpius the Muggle traditions that she never got to enjoy as a child, wants them to grow up knowing the best of both worlds.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She fishes it out, smiles when she sees a text from Tony. Ever since that lunch nearly a week ago, they've been talking a lot more. Things have kind of shifted from strictly sex to a friendship with the potential for something more. She doesn't mind at all, likes his dry wit and his sarcastic humor.

It's not something she thought would happen when she took him home from the bar weeks ago. He's a Muggle, doesn't know about magic, has no idea about her status in the Wizarding world. It's beyond too early to tell him, especially since she doesn't know if their friends with benefits relationship will progress beyond that.

She's open to it. Tony is sexy as hell, fun to be around, and Hari wants to know more. Googling him is becoming more and more tempting, but she likes this slow pace of actually taking the time to get to know someone. She's so used to people just knowing about her entire life back home and she knows he feels the exact same.

Tony: (7:24 am): I know there's a line between supporting and enabling, but I don't have the heart to tell DUM-E that his smoothies aren't as good as he thinks they are.

There's an image attached, one that has Hari smiling fondly. The robot has a chef's hat on the mechanical arm, a smoothie that looks like black tar positioned right next to it. Tony's sent pictures of his robots before, introducing each one of them. The way Tony talks about them is like she talks about her children, and she supposes that his bots _are_ his children. He created them, taught them, nurtured them.

He told her he'd introduce her to them one day, and Hari gets that fluttery, nervous feeling in her stomach.

Truth be told, Hari feels like she's never had a romantic relationship before. Her marriage hadn't been about love, wasn't anything born out of a deep, fiery passion and the need to spend the rest of her life with someone. The war had just finished, and Hari found that she didn't know what to do with her life.

After so many years of fighting and surviving, to suddenly not have something threatening her was disconcerting, left her restless. She joined the Auror forces immediately, didn't bother going back to Hogwarts like Ron and Hermione. Instead, she took her NEWTS at the Ministry, passed them, and started the Auror basic training.

It was when she finished that Andromeda asked her to take care of Teddy full-time. Not an old woman by any means, Andromeda found that taking care of Teddy was too painful, reminded her too much of the daughter she lost, and it was getting harder and harder on her mental stability, not that the Blacks were known for being sane in the first place.

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in Hari's body when she said yes. She knew nothing of taking care of children, had no clue what to do, but she wasn't going to abandon Teddy, fail Remus and Tonks. With Molly's help, she learned, and Teddy _thrived_. And with motherhood, Hari found that she wanted a partner.

She wanted someone who could take the mantel of being Teddy's father, wanted someone who she could share her fears and dreams with. Hari wanted the love she'd seen between Molly and Arthur, Ron and Hermione, Remus and Tonks.

She wanted a love like her parents had shared.

It's one of the few areas in her life that she completely failed. If someone wasn't dating her for the Potter and Black fortunes, they were dating her because she was Hari Potter, the Woman Who Conquered. They weren't dating her because she was Hari, a woman who loves treacle tart, who became an Auror because she didn't know anything beyond fighting for her life, who still had so much to learn about the Wizarding world because she was Muggle-raised, who took in a young orphan because it was the right thing to do.

And then Draco Malfoy came knocking on her door with a proposal that she couldn't refuse.

 _"You're looking particularly well today, Potter," Malfoy says cordially. He looks at her expectantly. "Are you going to let me in?"_

 _Hari stares at him, jaw slightly dropped. "What are you doing here?"_

 _He cocks an eyebrow. "I'm here because I have something that I need to discuss with you."_

 _She hesitates, but when Malfoy makes it clear that he's got nothing but time on his hands, she steps aside, motions him forward. He looks all around, eyes Grimmauld Place with no small amount of interest. Hari leads him to the sitting room._

 _There is already a tray with tea and biscuits, no doubt supplied by Kreacher, and for a moment, things are silent as they add the cream and sugar to their steaming mugs. Hari waits for Malfoy to take a sip of his tea before speaking up._

 _"What is it that you need to discuss with me?" she inquires._

 _Malfoy takes another sip, daintily sets the cup down. His grey eyes bore into hers, and she's only slightly surprised at the lack of hostility in them. The war changed everybody, and she's not going to begrudge him his current behavior._

 _People are allowed to change, grow, develop._

 _That doesn't mean she isn't a little skeptical._

 _"You saved my life that night." It's not a question._

 _He doesn't need to clarify which night. She remembers the unbearable heat, remembers spotting him clinging desperately to a pile of books, remembers going back for him._

 _"I've saved a lot of people," she says instead._

 _Malfoy smirks a little, inclines his head. "I'll cut to the chase, Potter. I owe you a Life Debt, and I intend to pay it in full."_

 _Hari sips her tea. Ron's told her about Life Debts, how your magic demands they be fulfilled. "How do you plan on doing that?" She's curious; he has nothing that she wants, and they both know it._

 _Malfoy bites into a biscuit. He chews slowly, purposefully, and Hari fidgets a little as the suspense grows. Then he drains his cup of tea, pats his mouth dry with a napkin._

 _Malfoy's face grows solemn, serious. "Marry me."_

 _Hari chokes on her tea, the liquid spilling down her shirt and all over her lap. Malfoy offers her his used napkin._

 _"Are you insane?" she demands. "Why the bloody hell would I marry you?"_

 _The blond doesn't take offense. His tone is matter-of-factly as he starts listing reasons, "It must be difficult trying to find a husband who doesn't want your money or your status. If you marry me, you won't have to worry about that at all as I have the Malfoy fortune to fall back on, and I've also never cared for your previously undeserved fame."_

 _"We hate each other," Hari points out, setting down her teacup._

 _"I don't hate you," he says seriously. "You're annoying, brash, uncouth, but you also speak your mind and you don't care what people think about you. Truthfully, I wanted to be your friend years ago and was upset that you chose Weas—Weasley." He coughs to cover up his stumbling over Ron's last name. She notices, though, levels a glare at him. "You want a family, don't you?"_

 _Hari stands up, starts pacing. "Yes, but I want…I want a relationship, Malfoy. And I don't love you." She pauses, turns to him. "You haven't been secretly in love with me this entire time and have just been violently yanking on my pigtails, have you? Because, I have to say, there are healthy ways of getting a girl's attention, and that isn't one of them."_

 _Malfoy barks out a laugh. "No, I'm not in love with you." He looks amused, crosses one leg over the other and leans back._

 _Hari narrows her eyes. "Then what's in it for you?" she asks suspiciously. "Why do you want to marry me if there's no romantic feelings involved?"_

 _Malfoy keeps his calm composure, but his eyes tighten a bit. "It's an old Pureblood custom to arrange marriages," he says quietly. "I was arranged to marry Astoria Greengrass, have been since I was a first year, but now that the Malfoy name is tarnished, her father broke off the engagement."_

 _"I'm, uh, sorry?"_

 _He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. "I have no interest in romantic relationships of any kind, Potter. This is more a nuisance than anything else. Despite my own personal feelings, I have a duty to continue the Malfoy line, and that means fathering children." He frowns severely. "My father is looking for other possible matches, but I find that I am hesitant to follow through with any of his choices. He's already led our family down the wrong path. We're disliked by both sides of this conflict, you know, and it's his fault."_

 _Hari's eyes widen in understanding, and without her permission, she starts to feel sympathetic. Malfoy was raised to believe in Voldemort's ideology. He never had a choice as to which side he truly wanted to be on. A memory hits her, sudden, and she recalls with visceral precision that night on top of the Astronomy tower, tears running down his ashen face as he tells Dumbledore, "He'll kill my family if I don't do this."_

 _"Marrying me won't save you or any kids from your father's bad choices," she says gently._

 _"No, not completely," Malfoy concedes, "but at least they'll have the protection of having you as a mother."_

 _Hari flops into her chair, buries her head in her hands. Her mind is whirling, spinning, and she can't believe she's actually considering this. She doesn't love him, doesn't think she'll come to love him with time, and from what he's said, he definitely won't come to love her either._

 _"How would this even work?" she asks hesitantly._

 _Malfoy grins, an actual little half-smile that makes him look like a boy again, takes that cocky edge away from his entire demeanor. "We can draw up a contract," he says. "The Malfoy family needs a son to inherit, so we will be expected to produce a son within the first two years of marriage. If you have any extramarital relationships, I only ask that you be discreet."_

 _"I wouldn't do that," she says hotly. "Even if we don't love each other, I wouldn't just find someone else to…to have sex with!"_

 _He raises his hands in defense. "It's just an offer," he says. Then he smiles at her slyly, "We can, of course, have sex whenever you want. My not wanting romantic relationships has no bearing on my libido, I can assure you."_

 _Hari wants to kick herself when she feels her face growing hot. "Oh, sod off, Malfoy," she sneers._

 _He laughs, head thrown back, shoulders shaking in mirth. "You can stand up to the most feared Dark Lord of all time, but Merlin forbid someone mention sex to you," he says, wipes a tear from his eye. He chuckles a bit more, Hari's face steadily reddening further. Then he stops, as if an idea occurs to him, and he stares at her with frightening intensity. "Are you still a virgin?"_

 _That's it._

 _Hari's entire face erupts into flames. "I was a little too busy fighting for my life," she starts._

 _Malfoy waves her off, uncharacteristically gentle and understanding. "I'm not mocking you for it," he says softly. "You should…if you…" He sighs. "You should lose your virginity to someone you care about. I hear it's important to girls."_

 _Hari is startled, stares at him, looks for any shred of dishonesty or mocking. He's being serious._

 _She can't help but think how different he is compared to just a few years ago._

 _She doesn't love him._

 _But maybe she could learn to like him._

 _"I need time to think about all this," she says._

 _He nods his head, stands up. "Take all the time you need," he replies. He starts to show himself out, stops, and turns to her again, a smirk on his lips. "Just keep in mind, if we do get married, it will greatly aggravate my father, and I know how much you love to get on his nerves."_

 _Hari laughs as he leaves, a full-bodied cackle that nearly convinces Kreacher to dose her next cup of tea with a Calming Draught._

Hari stares at her phone, smiles again at the message. It's too soon to tell, but she's willing to see where this goes.

Hari: (7:30 am): I look forward to meeting them. They sound as eccentric as their daddy.

Tony: (7:32 am): 1 image attached.

Tony is staring at the camera, eyebrow cocked, smirking, cup of motor oil-infused smoothie in hand. DUM-E is in the background, claw raised high in what she assumes is victory.

Hari grins, sets the picture as his contact photo.

As soon as she arrives at her apartment, she heads straight for her bedroom. She throws on a jumper, half of it green and silver, the other half black and yellow. She ties her hair into two pigtails, charms them to flicker through all the colors. Then she grabs a button and waits for the Portkey to activate.

Portkey is the best way to travel internationally, and in no time at all, there's that familiar hook around her navel, and she's whisked off.

Draco is having tea with his parents in the dining room when she arrives. He stares at her jumper, snorts into his tea.

"You're going to embarrass them," he says as she walks over to him. She gives him an affectionate kiss on the cheek that he returns.

Hari grins wildly. "I'm their mum. That's my _job_ ," she retorts. "It's rotten luck that the first match of the season is between the both of them, but now it just lets me showcase my wonderful sense of fashion. It's chic, isn't it?" She eyes his professional black robes critically. "And where's your Hogwarts spirit, huh?"

Draco conjures two different flags, waves them in the air. "Go Slytherin, go Hufflepuff," he deadpans.

Hari pouts. "You used to be so excited for Quidditch. You've grown up boring," she says. She turns to her former in-laws, greets them, "Good morning Narcissa, Lucius."

Narcissa offers her a small smile, inclines her head. Hari and Narcissa had warmed up to each other by the time Scorpius was born, having reached an understanding mother-to-mother.

Lucius, on the other hand, never accepted her, and she is quite fine with that. There's too much bad blood, too much negative history for there to ever be a somewhat decent relationship between them. He will always think she's a worthless Half-blood, and she will always think he's a racist bigot whose ideals should have died with his old master.

He sneers at her colorful attire. "Thank Merlin you're no longer Lady Malfoy," he mutters under his breath.

Hari hears it anyway, because of course he actually _wants_ her to hear him bad-mouthing her. Draco sighs, fixes his father with a hard stare. "It's the boys' first match. Is it too much to ask that you not start anything?"

Lucius' purses his mouth, thin lips practically vanishing under his ire. "Such attire is unbefitting a Malfoy, former or current," he says. "It will besmirch our name. And only Scorpius is your concern."

"You besmirched the Malfoy name yourself when you chose to follow a mad Half-blood driven by his own selfish lust for power and destruction," Hari shoots back, unable to help herself. She glares at him. "I will support _both_ of my children. Your approval is not needed."

She hits a nerve, knows she does because it's a hit below the belt, but she doesn't care. He's always had an issue with Draco stepping into the role of father for Teddy, but he needs to get over it. Draco helped Harry raise Teddy, is the only living father he knows, and there's nothing Lucius can do to change that.

Draco stands up, glares at both of them. "That is enough," he says. "We are all going to act like the adults we are." He turns to Lucius. "Hari may be my ex-wife, but she is still the mother of my _children_ ," he emphasizes, "and she is due respect, for that if nothing else. I know you do not approve of my choices, but they're already made, and your disapproval will not change them." He turns to Hari. "And I know you so enjoy antagonizing Father, but can you do it when our presence is _not_ needed at Hogwarts?"

Hari shrugs. "I'm sorry it's happening now, but I will not apologize for what I said. He ought to know better than to bring Teddy into this."

Lucius stands up, throws his napkin on the table. He leaves without another word, nose upturned.

Narcissa murmurs an apology for her husband, squeezes Hari's shoulder in solidarity, and then trails after her petulant husband, intent on making him see reason.

Draco sighs, shakes his head. "You will be the death of me," he tells Hari, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

"Hey, annoying your father was one of the perks of this marriage we had," she defends. She sobers up, says, "I really am sorry it happened now. I intended to be amicable, but, well…Your father still gets to me."

Draco stands up, shoots her an amused look. "I've accepted that you two will never get along. So long as we keep the peace when the children are around, I do not care what spats you get into."

It's a simple rule, one that Hari had suggested, and Draco wholeheartedly enforced. Regardless of personal feelings, any time the children are around, there were no snide remarks, no passive aggressive behavior, nothing. It's made holidays very peaceful.

"Ten galleons that Slytherin wins," Draco says, extends an arm out.

Hari loops her arm through his. "Why, are you betting on our _children_?"

"Of course," Draco retorts. He gives her a sly grin. "Scared, Potter?"

"You _wish_." She grins back. "Ten galleons that Hufflepuff wins, but Scorpius catches the snitch."

He leads her to the fireplace, hands her the Floo powder. "After you, Scarhead."

Hari snorts, stomps on his foot as she cries out, "Hogwarts Headmaster's Office!"

Draco's cursing follows her as she's whirled away.


	7. this is my kiss goodbye

Tony laughs at the picture Hari texts him. She's standing in the middle of two boys, both who look horribly embarrassed by her gaudy clothes. Her hair is in two pigtails, one side green with silver highlights, the other yellow with black highlights. It's obvious why she's dressed that way; each boy is sporting one of those combinations in the weirdest clothes Tony's ever seen. His hands itch as he fights the urge to google sports in Scotland to compare uniforms.

It's adorable, how she's shorter than her two children. The tallest one with black hair, Teddy, has a good three inches on her, and the blond is not far behind him.

DUM-E whirrs and beeps over his shoulder, mechanical claw gently tapping Hari's image on the screen.

"Yeah, I do think you'll get to meet this one," Tony murmurs. He pats DUM-E's claw, grabs a spare tennis ball from his work bench and tosses it. "Go play with your brothers."

DUM-E chases after the ball, U and Butterfingers hot on his trail, excited beeping and whirring putting a smile on Tony's face.

"Sir? Miss Potts is requesting to meet with you," JARVIS says.

Tony roughly rubs his face. "Is it too much to ask for some peace?" he groans.

"I can deny her request, sir." JARVIS's tone suggests he would like to, something which honestly surprises Tony a little. He typically likes Pepper.

"J, buddy, are you doing okay?"

"Of course, sir." JARVIS sounds hesitant.

Tony looks at the ceiling in mild alarm. "J, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

JARVIS actually sighs. "I might be too forward in saying this, sir, but I have found myself becoming… _irritated_ …with Miss Potts' behavior towards you. Despite your requests for space, she does not seem so inclined to grant you that. And I find myself at a loss because Miss Potts is an intelligent woman; she should know when she's not wanted," he adds waspishly.

Tony's eyes widen. "Wow," Tony whispers. He clears his throat. "JARVIS, you know, sometimes love makes people do crazy things. Pepper, she was the longest relationship I ever had. And our break-up has affected the both of us differently."

"Regardless, your request was not a difficult one to abide by," JARVIS says stubbornly, irritated.

He smiles at that, happy with the solidarity. "I appreciate you having my back, J, but that might actually be my fault," he admits. "I've never been good at establishing and sticking to boundaries. Pepper's not acting any differently than before."

"That doesn't make it _right_."

"No, it doesn't. That's why I want you to tell her to come up."

"Sir, is that—"

"Pepper and I are adults. We are going to have an adult conversation, and I will let her know, in no uncertain terms, that her behavior is no longer acceptable," Tony continues.

JARVIS falls silent, then says, quite sullenly, "Of course, sir."

It makes Tony smile, because this is just more proof how advanced JARVIS is, evidence of how far he's come since he first went online. JARVIS is technically the baby of the family, but he's so intelligent, capable of processing human emotions, every bit a Stark.

The elevator dings as the doors open. Pepper walks onto his floor, her stride determined, eyes bright and hopeful. She's in casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, tennis shoes, a black jacket he bought for her.

She stops just short of him, opens her mouth and then hesitates.

Tony doesn't speak, curious as to why she's here, stays sitting and waits until she composes herself.

"Come with me," she whispers.

Well, out of everything he was expecting her to say, this certainly isn't one of them.

"Excuse me?" He blinks, shocked, sure he didn't hear her right.

Pepper swallows thickly, repeats, "Come with me. To California." When he stays silent, she continues, "We can start over! I…I still love you, Tony, and I want to try again. Please."

How many nights has he spent wanting her to walk back into his life, declarations of love spilling from those perfect pink lips, desire on her face again?

How many times has he dreamt of this exact moment happening?

Why does it feel so cheap now?

"Why are you doing this?" he asks quietly. He watches as her face morphs into confusion.

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head, agitated. His throat tightens, and his eyes burn, and he fights back the bone deep sadness that threatens to overcome him. "Is this because of Hari?" he asks. "Because we made the news?"

Pepper flinches, and that's enough of a confirmation for him. "I love you," she says again, sounding smaller than he's ever heard. She's always been larger than life. "I just…I realized I made a mistake, letting you go. I remember all the fun times we had, how perfect we fit together. Do you…do you not feel the same?"

"You can't just break my heart and call it a mistake," Tony says, hates how his voice cracks with emotion. "It was a choice, deliberate. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you stood by it. If you didn't know about me and Hari, you wouldn't be here right now."

Pepper rears back in shock, her gorgeous eyes glossy and so full of hurt that Tony feels like scum. "I…" She cuts herself off, swallows. "It was never my intention to hurt you, Tony. I just…I'm always going to be watching, you know? It gives me nightmares. You're going to sacrifice your life one day, and I'm going to miss that call. Again. And I don't want to live like that."

Tony takes a deep breath. He shakes his head. "Then why are you even here?" he snaps. "Why are you trying to convince me to go back to California?"

She takes a few steps forward, grabs his hands in her smaller, soft ones, pulls them close to her chest. "I need you in my life, Tony," she whispers. "I _need_ you, and I don't want to watch you die. So, I'm here, _begging_ you, give up the suit and come with me. Come _home_."

Her hands are warm, gentle.

Her eyes are earnest, pleading.

He pulls away from her, steps back, purses his lips in a thin line.

"I am Iron Man," he says, quietly but firmly. "With or without the suit, I will _always_ be Iron Man. I won't stop helping people, not if it's within my power to do so."

He might as well have slapped her. She tears up, but now her brows are furrowed angrily.

"Haven't you done enough for the world?" she snaps back. "Why do you have to carry the world on your shoulders? _Why does it all fall on you?_ "

"Don't you see? It doesn't," he says. "The Avengers isn't much right now but having a team like this sets a precedent that will allow for other super powered individuals to step forward. We all live in this world, and we all have to do our part to protect it."

Pepper throws her hands in the air. "The world won't always _need_ the Avengers, _or_ Iron Man!"

Tony exhales heavily through his nose. This…this is one of the reasons why they broke up. She doesn't believe him, thinks he's only suffering from PTSD. He doesn't really blame her; he knows he sounds crazy, like he's lost his marbles. But, shit, why doesn't anyone believe him? He's the only one that went through that fucking portal; he knows what he saw.

And then there's the whole Death thing, his title Merchant of Death having otherworldly connotations.

Not that he's ever going to tell her.

Because she's never going to believe him.

"There is something out there," he says. "But I'm done arguing with you about this. Don't believe me; fine."

"Tony, you need _help_ ," she tries. "You underwent something horribly traumatic, and you never saw someone—"

"That's no longer your concern," he interrupts. His heart clenches painfully, but he maintains his stance.

"Tony, _please_ —"

"I love you." He smiles, but it's a joyless, shattered, brittle thing, all jagged edges and aching, festering wounds. "And I know you love me, too, but you're not _in_ love with me. You haven't been for a while."

She stares at him, stricken, beautiful in her despair. "I…"

"It took me a while to figure it out, which really is a shame because, you know, _genius_ ," he says, pointing to himself. His laugh is as sharp as broken glass. "And you know what? It's _okay_. It really is. Sometimes…sometimes people just don't work out. I can accept that." He licks his dry, chapped lips. "We tried, and that _matters_ , okay? What we had? It _mattered_ , more than you could ever understand."

Because he doesn't regret this failed relationship. He wishes like hell that it had worked out because underneath it all, despite all of their problems, Pepper is a damn good woman. She'll make someone very happy someday.

That someone just isn't him.

It stings a little less, the more he thinks about it. He misses her, misses how she looks in the morning when they're curled together in bed, misses the way she lets out little snorts when she's laughing really hard, misses finding long strands of red hair all over the place.

But more than all of that, he misses his Pepper-Pott, the friendship they had before sex and love got in the way. He misses how he could talk to her about almost anything, how they could joke together, laugh together.

She was the first woman to show him what love really was. Before it became too much, before it was a chore. Before.

Green eyes and breathless laughter flashes through his head, and it's like a balm on his aching soul, a hope for the future because he knows now that he doesn't just want someone to stand by him, but rather he wants someone that can weather the storm _with_ him.

And Pepper just…can't do that. Can't, or won't, he doesn't want to know that distinction.

That knowledge might succeed in breaking him.

Pepper's lip wobbles as her face crumples, and she lets out a soft sob. "We can try harder," she cries.

Tony shakes his head softly. "I can fix a lot of things, but I can't fix _this_ ," he admits, almost shamefully. "I…can't change who I am. I can clean up my habits, get my act together, but who I am at my core? That's who I am. And that doesn't fit with who you are."

Pepper covers her face with her hands, shoulders hunched as she cries. Her entire demeanor is so different compared to when she broke up with, all casual cruelty and polite distance. It hurts him, because he's never liked seeing her cry, hates that he's the cause of it, but he stands by what he said.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "Tony, I'm so _sorry_. I never meant to…"

"I know," Tony says, and he does. But that doesn't change the fact that she did. And that's why he can't try again, not with her.

He doesn't want to watch as the loving look in her eyes disappears.

He doesn't want to be there when the affection bleeds into irritation.

He can't do it. Not again.

She paws at the swollen flesh of her eyes. "God, I'm so fucking _stupid_."

"Hey, now, none of that," he says, hesitantly pulls her into a hug. It's warm, familiar, and he savors the feeling, just for a few moments.

"When I saw the picture," she whispers, "you just looked so _happy_. And I remember when we used to look like that, and I just wanted… I thought if we tried again, maybe this time… We just always seemed to gravitate towards each other."

Tony sighs heavily. "If we tried again," he says softly, "you would end up resenting me. And I don't want that to happen. Where we're at right now, we can recover from this. We can be friends again, eventually. I'm not ready, not now, but with time, I want to confidently say that we are good friends, and if we tried to force ourselves into a relationship again, it'll end badly. We deserve better than that."

She squeezes him like he's her lifeline, and he lets her.

"I love you," Pepper croaks. She takes a step back. Her eyes are red and swollen, sad, but she's smiling tiredly at him. "I'm…I'm sorry I haven't been giving you the space you need. You deserve better than that. And if you mean it, then I'd like for us to be friends again, too."

Tony smiles back, small but no less genuine. "We'll get there," he promises.

She nods her head, sniffles. "I, um, I have to get ready. My flight leaves in three hours," she says softly. She hesitates, then opens her arms again. "One more for the road?"

"Of course," he murmurs. He steps into her embrace again. They're quiet for a few moments, basking in the finality of this moment.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" Pepper murmurs into his chest.

Tony is startled into watery laughter. "That will be all, Miss Potts," he whispers back. He places a lingering kiss on her forehead, and if it's a little wet, a little salty, well, only he has to know. He pulls away, turns around so she doesn't see his face.

Pepper kindly lets herself out, the elevator ding signaling her departure.

It's silent, not unnaturally so. Still, Tony clutches his chest, aware that he's so very alone right now, and a sob rips from his lips. This is so fucking painful, worse than any wound he's received in battle, but he knows it had to be done. It was time. He had to rip the band aid off, clean the wound, let the pus and infection wash away.

He did the right thing.

Right?

"Sir?" JARVIS says softly, hesitantly.

Tony blinks, becomes aware that he's been muttering to himself. "Yeah, J?" he warbles.

"I…do not like seeing you in pain."

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, uses his fists to brush away the tears that seem to just keep pouring out. He takes deep breaths, wills himself to calm down. _Stark men are made of iron_ , he tells himself. He doesn't know why he still uses it as a mantra, didn't ever have the best relationship with his father.

His _mother_ , on the other hand. She was wonderful, always tried her best, is in almost every single one of his happiest childhood memories, her and Jarvis both. They never agreed about his father, but he never once doubted her love for him.

He remembers when he was a small child, maybe about four, and he was trying to build his own circuit board, a misguided attempt to get his father's attention. Genius he may be, but Tony has not been and never will be infallible. His very first attempt let out an unpleasant shock that hurt his fingers and made him burst into tears.

He had been looking for someone, anyone, to soothe his hurts, and it was his mother he ran into. She swept him into her arms, warm and comforting, the softest of embraces. "Mio bambino," she'd cooed as he sobbed into her bosom.

"I can't do it," Tony had cried bitterly. "I should just…give up! I'll never be as good as father."

And his beautiful, wise mother had told him something that stuck with him for the rest of his life.

Tony cleans his face, clears his throat. "Pain is temporary," he tells JARVIS. "It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually, it will subside. What I feel right now, that's okay. With enough time, it won't hurt so much anymore."

JARVIS is silent for a moment as he digests Tony's words, and then he says, "Human relationships baffle me. Sometimes they don't seem worth the pain and trouble."

"Oh, baby boy," Tony whispers, "I'd have to disagree with you there. Feeling pain is a part of being human. It means…it means that you're growing, and with time, you can let it help you. Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain." He sighs, remembers what Hari told him a few weeks ago. "And people are always worth it, JARVIS. People are either a blessing or a lesson."

"Which is Miss Potts?" JARVIS inquires.

Tony smiles sadly. "Both."

"I see." JARVIS pauses, continues, "You're wrong, sir."

"About?"

"You're not alone," JARVIS says fiercely. "You still have me, U, Butterfingers, and DUM-E. We're not going anywhere, and so long as our codes remain functional, you will _always_ have us."

As if to prove his point, the other bots slowly make their way into the room until they're surrounding Tony, making reassuring beeps, metal claws extended to gently lay on Tony's arms, hair, anywhere they can reach.

His throat tightens, chokes him up, and he tells them, "I don't deserve you guys."

"You deserve more," JARVIS says pointedly. "You are our creator, our father, and we will always be here for you."

Tony wipes his eyes. "I'm not crying, _you're_ crying," he whispers.

"Of course, sir. We grieve with thee."

Tony gasps. "Have you been watching Star Trek again?" he demands, his hand on his chest in mock outrage. "Without me? That is a _family_ event!"

The other bops beep guiltily, and then DUM-E races out of the room. He returns while Tony is mid-lecture about them continuing without him, a cup of oil smoothie in his claw. He hands it to Tony as if that will ease the sting of their betrayal.

Surprisingly, it does. Tony throws his head back and laughs, slightly hysterical, feeling infinitely better. He pats DUM-E's claw in thanks, accepts the smoothie.

Butterfingers claps his claws together as DUM-E beeps and whirrs proudly. Not to be outdone, U goes off in search of something to cheer Tony up, comes back with a tennis ball that he chucks at Tony's face.

They're a weird family, mismatched, but they're _his_ and Tony wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.


	8. who you are is not what you did

Hari is only slightly surprised to see Tony already seated at the table when she walks into the conference room. He's dressed smartly, his three-piece suit crisp and neat. She slips into the seat next to him, smiles.

"I thought Miss Potts would be in this meeting," she says. Not that Tony's presence is unwelcome; far from it. But she thought as owner of Stark Industries, he wouldn't be as involved with this project as Miss Potts would as the CEO.

"Pepper went back to California," he says, smiles back at her. He looks a little lighter than she last saw him. His eyes are still a little pinched, remembered pain, but they're not so haunted anymore. It doesn't escape her notice that the other woman is 'Pepper' instead of 'Miss Potts' and she wonders what happened between them. Whatever it was, it seems to have lifted a huge weight off Tony's shoulders.

"Ah, so you're stuck here with me now?" she teases. She crosses her legs, leans back.

"There are worse fates than having to sit next to a beautiful woman." His tone is flirtatious, playful. He laughs lightly when she blushes.

She sends him a playful glare, opens her mouth to speak, but the contractors walk into the conference room. Hari and Tony both stand up, shake hands with the contractors, and then it's all business talk. They listen to plans, timelines, budget expenses, and then Hari is running the show.

She is, by no means, a shrewd businesswoman, but as Hari got older, she found she had no patience to deal with dancing around any subject. Too often has she been taken advantage of, people wanting to manipulate the political clout she has as the Savior. Draco had to teach her the language of politics, and Dudley taught her the language of business. She detests using both but can't deny that it has been extremely helpful.

Hari nearly stumbles over her words when she meets Tony's eyes; he's staring at her with no small amount of wonder, with intrigue and delight, and his gaze turns a little wicked when their eyes lock.

She swallows thickly, averts her gaze because jumping his bones is not in the itinerary for this meeting.

The contractors are, thankfully, oblivious to the sparks between the two, eager to work on the project. Whether that's because they believe it's a good cause or because the project had made headlines after the gala, she has no idea.

The meeting ends soon enough, with Hari and Tony shaking eager hands once more, promises to remain in touch as soon as construction starts, and then it's just the two of them as Hari starts to gather her belongings.

"You should join me for dinner tonight," Tony says, absentmindedly fiddling with his cufflinks.

Hari cocks an eyebrow at him, smiles coyly. "Hmmm, I don't know," she muses playfully. "I'll have to check my schedule. I just might have plans tonight."

Tony walks behind her. He puts his hands on her hips, drops a soft, wet kiss on her neck. "Cancel them," he says lowly. "Join me."

Hari shivers, turns to face him with flushed cheeks and a wanton look in her eye. "Well, I suppose there are worse fates than having dinner with a handsome man," she replies softly.

She's delighted to see him smile, his cheeks a little pink, and she can't help but lean up on her tippy toes and kissing him.

It's a soft kiss, barely lasts more than a few moments, but then she's pulling away, taking a step back.

"I'll pick you up at six," he says dazedly. "Dress casually."

Hari hums in acknowledgement. "I'll see you at six."

* * *

Hari can't help but smile when they arrive at their destination. "Mini golf?" she questions.

Tony gets out of the car, opens the door for her. "I thought we could have some fun before dinner," he explains. He grins filthily at her. "And maybe have even more fun _after_ dinner."

Hari bites her bottom lip. She peers at him through her eyelashes. "Sounds like you've got everything all planned out."

"That's what I do. I plan things. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Her heart flutters a little; his words sound like a promise, and she can't wait. "I've never played mini golf before."

Tony gasps, clutches his chest. " _What_?" he demands. "Well, we can't have that!"

He leads her to the cashier, pays for a game, gets her situated with her own club and golf ball. The mini golf course isn't busy at all, and the cashier, a boy just older than Teddy, blushes when he looks at Hari, something that Tony seems to find alternatively amusing and annoying.

There are eighteen courses in total, each one small and progressively more difficult than the last. They walk to the course clearly labeled 'one' with Tony explaining the rules of the game.

"So we have to go through all of these little courses and try to get our ball in the hole in as few swings as possible?" she asks.

Tony nods his head. "Do you want me to show you how to swing a club?"

Hari eyes the ball in her hand, then the first course. "I think I want to try it on my own first."

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender, waves at her. "By all means."

She has no idea what she's doing, but she draws back on the limited knowledge she gathered from the golf tournaments that Uncle Vernon used to watch on the telly. Hari sets the ball down, holds the club as if it's a croquet mallet, and then she eyes the hole. Taking a deep breath, Hari rears the club back and then smacks it against the ball.

The golf ball goes flying through the air and hits an innocent squirrel climbing down a tree. The poor woodland creature drops down with a high squeak, lands dazedly in the bush below.

Hari gasps, horrified, drops the club as if it's on fire.

Tony breaks down, cackling hysterically and dissolving into little snorts when he tries to stop himself. There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and the unabashed mirth makes him look years younger. Her cheeks redden, and she almost wishes the ground would just open and swallow her up.

The poor squirrel gets up, shakes its head, and then goes scurrying off, no doubt paranoid about future attacks.

"I didn't think this sport would be so _violent_ ," she cries out, dismayed. "I almost murdered that poor squirrel! It's going to be scarred for life!"

Tony, who had finally gotten himself under control, resumes his hysterical laughter, leaning over his golf club like a cane, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. "I can't breathe," he gasps, clutching his stomach. "Holy shit, I think that was the best thing I'd seen in a while!"

Hari pouts, goes off to retrieve her wayward golf ball. She walks back slowly, shoulders a little hunched, peeks at the now quietly chuckling billionaire, and then hands over the ball. "Teach me?" she pleads.

Tony takes a deep, calming breath, snorts one last time, and then grabs the ball from her and sets it down, picks up her club. He positions himself right behind her, places his hands over hers. "This is how you hold a golf club," he says gently. "You don't want to violently swing it; this is _mini_ golf, and then hole is right over there. Just gently bring your arm back, and then – _tap_."

The ball tumbles down the course, stops just next to the hole.

Hari grins, turns to Tony and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you!"

He smiles back at her, sets his own ball down and prepares to take his shot. "Don't thank me yet," he warns her. "I won't go easy on you just because you're a beginner."

Hari laughs, flutters her eyelashes at him. "Bring it on!"

"Challenge accepted," he mutters, and then his own golf ball is tumbling down the course.

They banter back and forth as they play, Hari getting increasingly better as they go through the courses. It's some of the most fun she's had since Hogwarts, and by the end of the game, her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Tony's win isn't a surprise at all, but she still mockingly bows to him.

"This was a lot of fun," she tells him as he leads her to the food court of the course. He orders them hot dogs and chili cheese fries, his victory dinner.

Tony smirks. "And no more squirrels got hurt, so that's a bonus," he teases, outright chuckles when she gently shoves him.

"I feel like that squirrel is going to track me down and get revenge," she says quietly, eyes flickering around the trees. She eyes him slyly. "You'll protect me, right?"

"It'll be one of the easiest fights I've ever had," he tells her seriously. He laughs when she pokes his side, grabs their food and grabs a table.

"A win is a win," she points out with a smile.

Tony cocks an eyebrow, takes a huge bite out of his hot dog. "And do I get anything for winning?" he asks, his low voice sultry.

Hari smirks coyly. "Maybe you will." She eats her chili cheese fries, groans at the taste. "This might be hard to believe, but I never really had chili cheese fries before."

Tony levels her with a flat, unimpressed stare. "You've never played mini golf, you've never had chili cheese fries. I'm beginning to think you didn't have a very fun childhood."

It's a joke, Hari knows this, but it still makes her wince a little. No, she didn't have the best childhood, not that she wants to get into it. Tony notices her reaction, because it's hard not to when they're sitting a mere foot away from each other, and he hesitates, looks a little worried, as if he's expecting her to blow up on him.

Hari clears her throat. "My aunt and mother had a falling out years ago, and when I was put into her custody, let's just say that dislike and bitterness got transferred to me." She chews slowly on her fries, averts her gaze. When she turns back to him, he has a guilty, apologetic look on his face. She shakes her head. "It was ages ago. Water under the bridge and all that rot, and Dudley and I have a really good relationship right now."

Tony smiles sadly at her, still looks a little guilty. There's an awkward silence that settles between them before he quietly offers, "My father was always more concerned with finding Captain America than he was with being an actual dad."

Hari has no idea who Captain America is, but she doesn't say so. Tony sounds young, a quiet sort of bitter acceptance that oddly reminds her of Draco. She's never had parents to disappoint, came to terms at a young age that the Dursleys would never care whether or not she succeeded or failed in life. When she entered Hogwarts, that's when she suddenly had expectations to live up to, a legacy her parents left behind that she had to do her utmost to uphold.

Draco, on the other hand, grew up trying, and often failing, to meet the demands his father had. He'd idolized his father, thought Lucius Malfoy's word was as good as the gold in their vaults, and then had his eyes brutally opened when Voldemort once more rose to power. And now, though he's made peace with his father being a man and not someone infallible, there is still that twinge of old, barely healed bitterness and disappointment.

"My ex-husband's father is like that," Hari says to Tony. "Nothing Draco ever did was good enough, and that includes marrying me. Now that we have kids, he makes sure that Teddy and Scorpius know how much they mean to him."

Tony clears his throat, hides his vulnerability behind his curiosity for her old life. "That sounds very Romeo and Juliet-esque, ya know, if they lived at the end of the play," he quips. "If you don't mind my asking, why did you get divorced? You _are_ divorced, right? Separated?"

Hari smiles. "We've been divorced for two years now," she assures him. "And it's actually nothing like that. Draco thinks all romantic relationships are a waste of time, but he still needed an heir. He comes from old money, and his father had arranged his betrothal when he was eleven. When that fell through, Draco took matters into his own hands and asked if I would marry him instead."

"Wow. I had no idea arranged marriages were still a thing," Tony says, slightly shocked. "You must have been great friends if you agreed to go along with it."

Hari nearly chokes on her hotdog, laughing. "Oh heavens, no. We were enemies all throughout school," she tells him, grins at his confused expression. "I always thought he was an irritating ferret. No, the marriage just happened to be convenient for the both of us, and after eleven years of being married to him, we managed to build an… _interesting_ …friendship. We don't love each other romantically, never had, but I do consider him to be one of my dearest friends now. He's the father of my children, so we have to co-parent efficiently, you know? And underneath that arrogant, snotty, spoiled persona, Draco's a good man."

"Why get divorced then?"

"Just because Draco doesn't want romantic attachments doesn't mean I don't," she explains softly. "We agreed when we first got married that we would stay married until Scorpius went off to school, and then divorce so that I could still find love."

Tony nods his head slowly in understand. He finishes his hot dog as he mulls it all over. "Pepper and I had a nice talk a couple of weeks ago," he says quietly. "She actually tried to convince me to go back with her and to give us another shot, but I couldn't do it."

"Why?" Hari asks hesitantly. "Don't get me wrong, you look happier now than you did a few weeks ago, but you also seemed to not agree with the break-up when we first met."

Tony sighs softly. "It's simple, really. Pepper and I, we're just too different to be an effective couple. Telling her no was probably one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make, but I stand by it. If we tried to make a relationship work again, we would end up hating each other, and I don't want that. I want…I want us to be friends again, like the way things used to be. And it's like you said – with or without the suit, I am Iron Man. And Pepper, she doesn't understand why I have to do this, why I can't just stop."

Hari smiles sadly at him. "My friends would complain all the time about my hero complex," she says. "And I understand that they were worried for my wellbeing, that they wanted to keep me safe, but it wasn't something I could just turn off, ya know? How can I ignore someone crying for help in front of me, do nothing, just go on about my day?"

"You can't," Tony says. He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "I helped cause some of this damage. Weapons that I created, that I designed and brought to life, they've helped do some horrible things. I used to think that having a bigger stick was the best policy, but what does it matter? Everyone gets hurt in the end. Iron Man was forged out of necessity, but he does good. When I'm in the suit, I help people. It might not have started because of some selfless, noble desire, and it might not completely absolve me of all the wrong I've done, but it's a start, you know?"

"You aren't personally responsible for what other people have done." She reaches over, places her smaller hand over his. "You thought your weapons were a problem, so you stopped manufacturing them. You saw terrorists using your weapons to hurt people, so you put on the suit. Time and again, you've done _good_ in this world. My old professor, he used to tell me that it's our choices that show what we truly are. You're a good man, Tony Stark, and regardless of why you built the suit. And because you are a good man, you will continue to help people, protect them, save them. Nobody can take that away from you."

"Thank you," Tony croaks. He stares at her like she's not of this world, like she's taken his entire world view and shook it up. It's like something clicks into place, settles perfectly between them.

How long has it been since this man has known compassion?

How long has it been since someone understood him, his actions?

Hari's not foolish enough to think that she's seen every facet of his personality, the intricacies that make up Tony Stark, but she's seen enough to mean every word she's said. She sees a man burdened by his past, a man that gets up and tries to right his perceived wrongs, a man that wants so badly to do _good_.

Hari sees it all, and she accepts it.

There's a heartbeat of silence, comfortable, and then Hari stands up. "You said something about a prize for your victory?"

* * *

The room is full of their harsh panting as they try to catch their breath. Hari grunts as he lets go of her hair, and then they're laying side by side, utterly spent, pleasantly aching in a way that she knows she'll feel for days.

"If that's my prize, I'm always going to be winning," Tony remarks breathlessly next to her.

Hari laughs. "And what do I get if I win?" Her voice is a little hoarse from the screaming, something that has Tony smirking proudly.

"More sex?"

She elbows him in the side. "I want a sandwich," she says.

He looks at her. "You want it right now, or you want that as your prize? Because, I gotta say, out of all of the things you could demand from me, a sandwich was pretty low on that list."

Her stomach growls in answer. "We worked out quite a bit," she defends. She stands up, and with a devilish grin, she puts on his boxers and his ACDC t-shirt. "Come on, Tony, let's go get a snack."

She laughs as she runs out of the room, Tony's outraged squawks falling behind her. She has no idea where she's going, manages to stumble her way to the kitchen with little fanfare. Her mirth completely leaves her body when she sees a strange man having a drink by the bar. He's a military man, as evidenced by his decorated jacket, with brown, chocolate skin.

Hari stumbles backwards, bumps into Tony. She turns, eyes wide, and points to the strange man, unsure if he's a friend or foe.

"Rhodey bear!" Tony cries joyously, leaving Hari damn near sagging with relief. She's rusty on her wandless magic, but she would have attacked without hesitation at the slightest hint of aggression from Tony.

"Hey, Tones. Is there a reason why you have JARVIS on mute?" the man, Rhodey, asks. His eyes trail towards Hari, and they get comically wide. "Oh, shit, I didn't realize you had company!"

Tony waves him away, grabs Hari's arm and leads her to the other man. "Hari, this is my sourpatch, the amazingly rugged and charming Rhodey. Rhodey, this is Hari. She's mine."

Rhodey rolls his eyes, offers a hand to Hari, who shakes it with a confused smile. "Colonel James Rhodes," he introduces. He smiles at her, points to Tony. "It's nice to meet the woman who can make this doofus happy."

Hari blushes furiously.

Tony splutters. "Rhodey, stop making me look uncool!" he complains. He turns to Hari. "Don't listen to a word he says!"

Rhodey elbows him away. "Seriously, anyone who can put a smile on his face is great in my book." He grins mischievously. It reminds Hari of George, makes her feel simultaneously worried and at ease. "It's been, what, a few months since you guys have been going steady? And you didn't even tell me, Tones?"

Tony rolls his eyes, but he doesn't deny that they're going steady. "Rhodey, I was _going_ to tell you—"

"No, no, I see where your priorities are," Rhodey says, winks playfully at Hari in such a way that makes her chuckle. His face sobers up, and he says seriously, "I'm happy for you, Tones. It's been so long since you've taken my advice, I feel like I should record the time and date. See, I _knew_ she'd overlook that whole Merchant of Death garbage."

Unbidden, Hari stiffens a little, stares at Tony in shock.

 _"Find my Merchant."_

Tony stiffens, too, says, "I, uh, didn't tell her about that yet, Rhodes."

Rhodey freezes momentarily. "Shit," he curses.

Hari swallows thickly, shakes her head a little. "It's okay," she says, curses how unsteady her voice sounds right now. "Remember when I told you I used to be in law enforcement back home? I, uh, had my own nickname. They called me the Mistress of Death."

Tony stiffens even more, stares at her with shock and confusion, makes her gut twist and churn. They stare at each other, assessing, a little worried, and Hari knows that they're going to have so much to talk about.

Rhodey throws his hands in the air. "Seriously, what is _with_ these goddamn monikers?"


	9. hold onto me (cuz i'm a little unsteady)

By the time Rhodey is ready to retire to his floor, Tony is stressed the fuck out. He loves his platypus, loves that the other man is more than willing to spend his small amount of free time with him, but his head is fucking _reeling_ with Hari's revelation.

She's the Mistress of Death.

The Mistress of Death is Hari Potter.

Tony can't even.

Rhodey shakes Hari's hand again, smiles genuinely at her and says, "It was nice to meet you, Hari. I hope I'll be seeing more of you."

Hari smiles back, a little hesitant, but no less genuine. "I hope so, too," she says quietly.

Rhodey whispers in Tony's ear as he walks by, "You did good, Tones. I'm really happy for you." And with a clap on his back and a sly wink, Rhodey makes his way to the elevator.

The silence is thick and tense, with Tony staring at Hari cautiously and Hari fidgeting under his stare.

"So…" Tony says. He opens his mouth, hesitates, then motions for her to follow him. He doesn't lead her to his bedroom again, instead chooses the living room and settles into one of the plush couches.

Hari gingerly sits on the couch next to him. "So," she echoes, fiddles with her hands. "This is a little awkward."

Tony lets out a little laugh, but it sounds stilted and forced. "Yeah, awkward is one way of putting it," he murmurs. He stares at her, his lips thinning. "I assume you got a meeting from…Death?"

Hari studies him, her head cocked to the side. "Yes. How did you meet Death? I thought you were a Muggle."

"A _what_ now?"

Her eyes light up in understanding, and then a grimace overtakes her beautiful features. She hesitates, bites her lip, averts her eyes for a brief moment. Then she takes a deep breath and stares at him with her head held high. "A Muggle is a term British magical people use to describe non-magical people," she says softly.

He doesn't really know what to say. To say that he was non-magical implies that she _is_ magical. He remembers cold blue eyes, a menacing grin, an echo of, _"How will your friends have time for me when they're so busy fighting **you**?"_

Ever since Loki, he's been apprehensive with anything magical. The arc reactor had saved him before, stopped the god from overpowering his mind, but he doesn't have it anymore. He's defenseless when it comes to magic, and as he stares at Hari, this beautiful woman who has been managing to get under his skin for the past few weeks, he realizes that he doesn't want to defend himself against her.

Not that he can't protect himself. They've been a thing only for the past few weeks; it would suck to break it off, but he could do it if he needed to. Maybe this makes him pathetic, but he _likes_ her. He enjoys the time they spend together, in and out of the bedroom, finds himself fascinated by the way she way she speaks her mind, the innermost thoughts she let him peak at, the acceptance and _goodness_ that she radiates.

"So, you...have magic?" He licks his suddenly dry lips. "The most prominent experience with magic that I have is the mind-controlling kind."

She pales, her complexion almost resembling curdled milk, looks sick to her stomach. There's a hint of sympathy that makes him pause. "What?" she cries, aghast. "Tony, that's...that's _illegal_!"

He brows furrow in confusion. His mind whirls at breakneck speeds, taking in all of what she's saying – and all of what she's _not_ saying.

Illegal implies that the action, in this case mind control, is prohibited by law, which further implies that there are laws to begin with.

Sympathy implies that she shares his feelings, also in regards to mind control, which then further implies that her mind was, at one point, under the control of someone else.

Her dismayed expression, the way her lip is curled in disgust, tells him that she also sees it as something horrible, and he finds himself being put at ease. This isn't a woman who would pull a Loki and go on a killing spree in a breathtaking display of Daddy Issues Meets Delusions of Grandeur.

Tony clears his throat. "Let's start this all over," he says. "Magic is real, and you have magic. You're a...?"

"I'm a witch," Hari says, "but Tony, if someone is going around casting Unforgivables, then they need to be stopped. What can you tell me of the incident?" Her voice is authoritative, commanding in a way he's never heard from her, and he's abruptly reminded that she used to work in law enforcement. _Magical law enforcement_ , he realizes.

"This is so amusing to watch, it's almost painful," a voice muses just to Tony's side.

Tony nearly flinches off the couch, turns his head sharply. Death is seated next to him, legs crossed primly, robe riding up and showing off white bone.

Hari crosses her arms, glares at Death. "You _knew_ ," she nearly hisses. "And why the bloody hell didn't you just _tell me_ who your Merchant was? Or that someone is going around casting the Imperius Curse?"

Despite the anxiety he feels at having Death itself seated next to him, Tony can't help but admire how ballsy Hari is.

Death huffs imperiously. "I am as bound to certain laws as any other being in this universe," it says. "I already interfered too much by saying as much as I did. Besides, when I spoke to each of you, you had already become... _acquaintances_. How was I to know it would take even longer for you to make the connection?"

Hari throws her arms in the air. "It's not something you bring up randomly in conversation!" she defends. "And you still haven't said anything about the loony that's off casting an _Unforgiveable_ on Muggles!"

Death sighs, turns to Tony. "She's like a dog with a bone," it says. Then Death pauses, eyes Hari suspiciously (which is amazing considering the lack of _facial features_ ), and then pulls the robe down, covering the exposed femur.

Tony doesn't know what to make of all this, really.

"It was about a year and a half ago," he tells Hari. "And we know exactly who it was. The situation has already been handled, I promise."

Hari nearly sags in relief. "I'll bet MACUSA wasn't happy," she muses aloud.

Tony is getting more confused with every word she spits out, which is an amazing feat because, hello, _genius_.

Death laughs, and it sends little shivers up Tony's spine. "Oh, Mistress, how behind on the times you are," it sneers. "The incident my wonderful Merchant is talking about had nothing to do with MACUSA or any other magical government or civilian. He's talking about the alien invasion that put this planet on the map, so to speak."

"I don't remember the news ever mentioning mind control," Hari murmurs, confused.

"They didn't," Tony says. "The mind control was kept from the public because of the mass panic it could cause. Aliens was…more than enough to deal with."

Hari looks torn at this, grimaces.

Death claps its hands together. "Really, I'm so very glad that we're talking like civilized adults," it says. "But I did not come here to rehash old information." The air becomes heavier, thick and tense. "Thanos is coming."

"Who exactly _is_ Thanos?" Hari asks quietly.

With a snap of its fingers, an image appears before them. The alien is large, beefy, with scarred purple skin, mouth stretched in a horrid parody of a grin. Tony can feel his heart picking up speed, thundering wildly in his chest, and he swallows thickly.

"The Mad Titan," Death whispers. "He seeks to wipe out half the universe."

"Why?" Hari asks, stares at the image with a hard look in her eyes.

"Why not?" Death counters.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Hari snaps. "You know why he's coming, so spill it."

Tony's eyes flicker back and forth between the two. He feels uneasy, the fine hairs on his arm standing at attention.

For a long moment, it seems like Death isn't going to answer. Hari's face is hard, unyielding, and she carries herself like a soldier, tall, relentless. Not the time, but he can't help but find this look on her incredibly attractive.

Then, Death sighs. "He wishes to prove himself worthy of my love," it confesses. "And he believes the best way to do that is by wiping out half the universe. Courting gifts, he calls it." Death scoffs. "Because, really, nothing is more romantic than giving me even _more_ work to do."

Tony wonders if he looks as stunned as Hari does. Her jaw is slack, eyes wide, classic 'what the fuck did I just hear' expression. He himself is at a loss for words, reeling.

"The world is at stake for your _love life_?" Hari asks quietly, shocked.

Death huffs. "It's not like I want him to do this," it reasons. "Apocalypses have to be _scheduled_ so myself and my reapers can accommodate the sudden influx of souls. There's already more than enough work to do, _thank you very much_!"

"Why us?" he manages.

Death turns to him. "Pardon?"

"Before, you said that if we wanted to defeat Thanos, we would have to join forces as your Chosen. Why us?"

Because being the Merchant of Death is something that he's come to associate with blood and shame, with misdeeds that need to be atoned for. And now there's a cosmic reason behind it, and as childish as it is, that's just not fucking _fair_. He's been trying so fucking hard to get rid of it, to be better, to be good.

Death laughs in dark amusement, reclines further into the couch. "As entrenched in death as you are, you need ask me this?"

Tony bristles.

"In my world," Hari says softly, "there was an old legend, more of a children's story. _The Tale of the Three Brothers_. In this story, three brothers managed to escape Death and were given three 'gifts' in reward. They were the Elder Wand, a powerful wand that let the witch or wizard become unbeatable; the Resurrection Stone, a stone that could call back the dead; and the Invisibility Cloak, a cloak that could shield the wearer even from Death. Legend said that combining all three of these artifacts would make someone immortal, and thus that person would become the Master or Mistress of Death."

"You gathered all three artifacts," Tony says.

Hari nods her head, bites her lip. "It was an accident," she admits. She meets his eyes, and continues earnestly, "I didn't even have all three of them at the same time, but it was…enough, I guess."

"It was no accident," Death says, affronted.

Hari purses her lips. "I did not intentionally set out to find these artifacts," she corrects. "I didn't even know they existed until shortly before I got them all. And it was supposed to be a legend, not _real_!"

"Legends ring with truths," Death supplies helpfully.

Tony points at the robed figure accusingly. "You stole that from _Brave_!"

"And although they are based in truth," Death continues, ignoring Tony, "there is more to the story than what you mortals recall." It stands up, smooths its robe. "Why did Hari Potter become my Mistress? Was it because of my Hallows? No, not entirely." It turns to Tony. "Why did Tony Stark become my Merchant? Was it because his wonderful inventions take the lives of their targets? Again, not entirely."

"Then why…?"

Death is focused on Hari. "You did not have all three of my Hallows, that is true, but you already had the allegiance of the Elder Wand when you physically had the other two in your possession, and that was enough to garner my attention. It is not enough to simply have all three of my Hallows, however. You have to be _worthy_ of them, too. Only then can someone become the Master or Mistress of Death. Tell me, Mistress, do you know when you became worthy of the title?"

Hari shakes her head slowly. "No," she says quietly, so quiet that Tony has to strain to hear her.

"Most mortals, when faced with their own mortality, fight. It's human nature, I suppose, to fear me and all that I stand for," Death muses. "But you, Mistress, you didn't fight me. Oh, no. When you discovered that soul piece leached onto your own soul, when you realized how deeply your beloved mentor betrayed you, you didn't despair. You walked into that forest, knowing you would not come out alive. You walked to your demise, and when your heart stopped beating, in your final moments, you _embraced_ me."

Tony's breath catches in his throat. "You died?"

Hari's eyes turn a little glossy, and she looks at him. "It was better me than them," she whispers.

Death turns to Tony. "It was a beautiful sort of irony, your own weapons being the cause of your near demise," it says, casual in its cruelty. "Unlike my Mistress, you _do_ fear me. Don't deny it, my dear Merchant, I can practically _smell_ it. You searched and searched for _months_ trying to find a cure to the device poisoning you, didn't you? And in the end, after you fix the issue, the Chitauri invade Earth. You and your companions fight to defend the city, this planet by extension, and in the end it's nearly worthless. And yet, despite how you fear me, despite how the very thought of me wakes you up _screaming_ into the night, you took that bomb on your back, and you flew it into that wormhole. It was as much a one-way journey as Mistress' stroll in the forest, you _knew_ this, but you did so without hesitation."

Tony's heart is pounding in his chest. His throat is tight, and Hari's staring at him with such understanding, such heart-wrenching compassion that he has to squeeze his knees to hide his shaking hands. "It was better me than them," he repeats quietly.

"These titles are not mere _monikers_ ," Death sneers. "These are positions that you have _earned_. You are mortal now, of course, and you will live mortal lives until you perish. But once you enter my Realm, there is work that must be done, and to prepare for it, certain trials must be faced. It is for this reason I am only allowed to say so much."

"What if we don't want this?" Tony asks. He stares at Death, and his hands clench his knees even tighter until his knuckles are white. "Don't we, I don't know, deserve a _break_ when everything is all said and done?"

"I already told you I don't have time to deal with your mortal sensibilities," Death says harshly. Then its voice softens, and it murmurs, "You may not see it now, but these positions are an honor."

There's a long silence as they digest and absorb this information. Death allows them these moments of silence, a mercy given the information that just got dumped on their heads.

"What _can_ you tell us?" Hari asks. She seems to have come to terms with it all far quicker than Tony has.

"You have only five or six years to prepare for Thanos." Death turns to Tony. "In reality, without my Mistress, victory is possible, but it will be a pyrrhic victory." It turns to Hari. "Your help will be invaluable. After all, you've gone on a similar quest and came out the victor." Before that can really sink in, Death says, "Your allies will be invaluable. Use them."

And then Death is gone, a wisp of smoke, a chill that overtakes the room, and then it's just Tony and Hari. She rubs her hand over her face.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Tony asks quietly. "About you…having magic."

"Yes," she says without hesitation, putting him at ease. She grimaces a little. "There's something called the Statute of Secrecy to protect us from exposing magic to Muggles, so I couldn't exactly tell you about magic right away. I was going to see if we got more serious before I said anything."

Tony nods his acceptance, takes a deep breath. "It's a lot to take in," he admits.

"I understand. I didn't really believe it myself when I found out." She bites her lip. "Is my having magic going to be a problem? I understand if it is! I mean, like you said, it's a lot to take in, even without you having a history with mind control. I'm _so_ sorry that happened to you. Mind control is…it's…I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"I, uh, actually managed to avoid it." At her questioning look, he explains, "I used to have an arc reactor in my chest to keep the shrapnel from getting to my heart, and for some reason, it was able to protect me."

Hari frowns, confused. "That's strange. Magic usually disrupts technology; it's only been recent that we managed to make small electronics work around magic." Her eyes widen when she realizes what that sounds like, waves her arms around wildly. "Not that I'm not happy that you were safe, or anything!"

Tony waves her off. "I know what you meant."

She smiles a little, but then it falls. She stands up, her hands awkwardly at her sides. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, and I don't want to pressure you or anything. I'll just…I'll grab my things and go home tonight, okay? And, I guess, just call me if this…if you still want to…"

Hari trails off, starts to walk back towards the bedroom.

He grabs her hand without thinking, holds it firmly but not enough to bruise. She looks at him, confused, a worry wrinkle upon her brow, and he takes a second to just take in the features of her face. She looks so earnest, and he might regret this later, might regret her, but he finds himself still willing to take a chance.

"I don't know if this is a deal breaker or not," he says. "It's a lot to take in, and it might be something that I can get used to. It might not. I'm going to ask a lot of questions, and I'm going to want to know everything about your magic and how it works. But I just…I don't…I want us to keep taking it slow and see where this goes. I don't want you to go yet."

She looks cautious, but hopeful. "What are you saying?" she asks quietly.

"Stay," he whispers. "Tonight, stay with me."

She smiles softly at him, elated. "Okay. If you're sure."

"I'm sure." His stomach growls. "Well, let's get that sandwich first."

Hari laughs, and it sounds a little choked, but that's okay. It's been a roller coaster of a night.

He entwines their fingers together, starts to lead her to the kitchen, but then he's whirling around, cupping her face with his free hand and firmly pressing their lips together. Hari lets out a small sound of surprise, but then she melts into the sudden embrace.

The kiss is soft, not those rushed, sexy ones from earlier, but somehow no less passionate. She fits just perfectly against him, like her body was made for his. He doesn't know when they stop, but his forehead is pressed against hers, their noses brushing, and it just feels so _right_.

He'll sort out everything else later.


	10. don't have to try hard

Waking up is a slow, gradual process. There's light shining through the window which Hari doesn't remember opening, and there's the comfortable weight of an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a hard, muscular chest.

To say last night was unexpected is like saying Voldemort was only a little crazy – a gross understatement that warrants an intelligence evaluation.

She never would have thought that Tony Stark would be the Merchant that Death wanted her to find. Now that she knows, it's like the clues had all been there, laid out in front of her, wrapped in a pretty bow. Tony himself had said that he used to make weapons and was considered a war profiteer.

How did she ever manage to become a successful Auror if she couldn't even figure this out?

"Stop thinking," Tony grumbles into her hair.

She startles a little, not expecting him to be awake. "Sorry," she says quietly.

He pulls her even closer to him, and she can feel his morning wood poking against her ass. "Rhodey doesn't get a lot of time off from the military," he tells her. "When he gets here, we normally spend at least one full day together. Did you…want to join us?"

She wriggles in his grip until they're face-to-face. He's wide awake, hair askew, the sun framing his face. "I don't want to intrude," she says.

"Nonsense," Tony retorts. "I don't spend time with people unless I want to. And besides, if you don't come, I'll have to hear Rhodey nag at me the entire time, and trust me, the man can get on his soap box for hours. I'm afraid I'm going to need you to activate that hero complex and save my ears from his tirade."

Hari's shoulders shake with mirth, and she looks at Tony fondly. "Well, I do have a saving people thing," she says softly.

"I'm okay being a new notch on that belt of yours," Tony assures her. He smirks, pulls her a little closer to him, plants soft, wet kisses on her neck. "Although, we do have a little bit of time before we have to do any of that..."

Hari shivers, her cheeks heating up. She lets out a small sigh, tilts her head so he has better access. "Oh, we do, do we?"

But before they can really get into it, there's knocking on the bedroom door. Tony lets out a frustrated sigh. "If we don't answer, he'll go away," he tells her.

"Rise and shine, princess," Rhodey calls through the door. "It's already twelve-thirty, and I have a craving for steak and lobster!"

"We should just get back to what we were doing." Tony reattaches his lips to Hari's neck, sucks at her pulse point.

Hari bites her lip to stop the laugh from escaping, gently pushes him away. "You don't want to keep your friend waiting," she says.

She must not have been quiet enough because Rhodey says through the door, "Hari, please join us. I have so many stories that I need to tell you about this knucklehead." There's a mischievous tone in his voice, one that reminds her of Fred and George.

Tony lets out a put-upon sigh, and then he loudly says, "You have encountered a recording from the wonderful Tony Stark. All inquiries will be answered after presenting a thirty-thousand-word essay on why Iron Man is the sexiest Avenger. Remember to cite your sources with MLA formatting an—"

"Thirty- _thousand_ -words?" Rhodey demands incredulously.

"I am worth nothing _less_ , platypus!"

"Oh really?" Yeah, Rhodey is definitely smirking on the other side of the door. "I seem to remember this one time down in Mexico when—"

Tony yelps, gets himself tangled in the sheets as he tries to leap to the door. "Don't you dare, Rhodey!" he nearly squeals. He fumbles with the door, tackles the laughing man to the ground. "We swore to never speak of Mexico!"

Hari watches them from the bed as they wrestle, grappling on the ground and trying to gain the upper hand. It reminds her a little of Teddy and Scorpius, the scuffles they got into before Teddy went off to Hogwarts, the bantering they still do when they come every holiday.

She stands up, laughing, and Tony's attention is back on her. Despite being in a headlock, his eyes focus on her, on the way his clothes drape over her smaller frame.

Hari smiles at Rhodey. "I'll be happy to join you both," she tells him warmly. She glances at Tony briefly, looks away. "I just need to shower first."

"We both do," Tony says immediately. He twists and wiggles until he's free from the headlock, uses Rhodey's head to push himself to his feet. "We'll see you in an hour, Rhodey. No, wait, make that two."

And then Tony's closing the door, Rhodey smirking from his position on the floor.

"I'll shower first," Hari says, pulling off Tony's shirt and dropping it on the floor with a small smirk.

It's amusing how his eyes immediately home in on her exposed chest.

"That's not a very environmental stance to have, wasting all that water," he says huskily. "New plan: we shower at the same time."

"Oh? Well, you do have several floors. I guess there's bound to be plenty of loos to use," she playfully muses, slips a finger behind the waistband of the boxers and snaps it.

Tony cocks an eyebrow at her. "But then who will scrub my back?" He pouts. "I thought you had a saving people thing?"

Hari bites her bottom lip, tugs the boxers down ever so slightly. "You bring up several valid points, Tony..." She shivers in anticipation when his eyes darken. With one last naughty smile, she pushes the boxers down, stepping out of them. And then she walks to the connected bathroom, nude, fully aware of his eyes following her. She pauses at the bathroom door, looks over her shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

* * *

Hari's still giggling when she makes her way towards the living room where Rhodey is waiting. Tony is trailing behind her, his lower lip tugged in an overly exaggerated pout, the apples of his cheeks a little rosy.

Rhodey cocks an eyebrow. "Everything okay?" He pauses, says, "Wait, do I even want to know?"

Tony huffs. "Let's enjoy lunch," he says with a bright grin that is obviously faked. "Steak and lobster, right? I do love a good surf and turf."

Hari looks at Rhodey slyly, says, "Tony's a little embarrassed because of how clumsy he was earlier."

Clumsy is a bit of an understatement. He'd been so eager to take a shower with her that he pulled his pajama pants down and then tripped over them. It had thoroughly killed the mood; Hari couldn't stop giggling for the first ten minutes of their shower.

Despite the lack of sexy times, it was still nice to shower together, scrubbing each other's backs, Tony cracking jokes the entire time just so she could keep laughing. It was still incredibly intimate without them having sex, which isn't something Hari's really experienced before.

She's had shower sex before, thoroughly enjoys it, but the easy-going nature of her developing relationship with Tony is so new and different. She's reached some level of intimacy with Draco before; regardless of their lack of a romantic relationship, it was hard not to be intimate with the man that was her husband for eleven years. There were a couple other relationships after Draco where she was comfortable, but there was always a spark or something missing.

Rhodey grins widely. "See, the world only knows Tony Stark as some kind of playboy, this smooth Casanova, but let me tell you, this man right here was, once upon a time, an awkward fourteen-year-old kid that could study for several master's degrees at once but managed to make flirting sound like a painful insult."

Hari laughs harder, sits next to Rhodey and leans towards him. "Tell me all about awkward, teenage Tony Stark."

"How about we not?" Tony says brightly, lays across their laps like it's a natural, everyday occurrence. "I believe my sourpatch has requested steak and lobster? We can't very well do that if we're here reminiscing like old biddies."

Rhodey cocks an eyebrow, says, "Turnabout is fair play, Tones." He turns to Hari. "This one over here just loves to reminisce when he's not the one being embarrassed," he explains.

Hari nods sagely. "My best mate Ron loves to tell embarrassing stories about the shenanigans his brothers got into, but he hates it when they do the same."

"I'm about to take you to McDonald's," Tony threatens Rhodey.

"Joke's on you; I can enjoy a Big Mac here and there," Rhodey says triumphantly.

Tony pouts, nearly collapses onto Hari. "He's being mean to me," he tells her.

She laughs. "You both remind me of my boys," she says. At Rhodey's questioning look, she clarifies, "I have two boys, thirteen and fifteen."

"God, that sounds like a handful."

Hari nods. "They have prankster blood running through their veins," she agrees. "They haven't quite broken my record yet, but that's because they're better at not getting caught."

"Oh? And were you in trouble frequently?" Tony leers at her.

Rhodey pushes him to the floor and stands up. "You are not going to do any such nonsense in my lap," he says sternly. He tries to keep a smile off his face, but she can see the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Hari stands as well, extends a hand to Tony and tugs him up. "I hold the record at my old school for the most rules broken my entire seven years there," she tells him with a small smirk. "And for the most hospital wing visits. I think they even put a plaque by my old bed."

Tony entwines their fingers together, starts to lead them to the elevator. Hari feels like a teenager again, wonders if her face is heating up. Tony's hand is calloused but warm, and she likes the feel of it.

"See, Rhodey, I never really broke any rules at MIT," Tony points out with a smirk.

"Just a law here and there," Rhodey retorts dryly.

Hari watches with a smile as they argue back and forth, devolving into childish insults and trying to convince her that they're right. They're just like any other pair of brothers that she's seen before, and she finds herself thoroughly enjoying their bantering.

They have lunch at a restaurant not far from Hari's apartment, and Rhodey delights in telling her of the mischief that he and Tony would get up to at MIT. She laughs hard enough to give herself a headache, and tells stories of her own misadventures in school, mostly about her rivalry with Draco since they were easier to water down.

She's aware of Tony's thigh touching hers the entire meal. When they're done eating, Tony puts his arm around her, tugs her a little closer, keeps conversation up with Rhodey completely unfazed.

She can smell his cologne, wants nothing more than to curl up on his chest and relax.

Rhodey doesn't say anything, just smiles softly, his eyes shining with happiness, and Hari finds herself blushing a little.

Because as much as Tony proclaimed himself a playboy, he's been focused entirely on seeing her, showing his interest, running full force with slowly getting to know each other.

She wants to return the favor, wants him to know how much she's enjoying their time together and that she's hopeful they'll last.

They spend the rest of the afternoon with Rhodey, and eventually Hari leaves to give them some time together. It gives her enough time to figure out what she wants to do for Tony, and when the idea hits her just a few days later, she hopes he'll like it.

* * *

Hari is just getting out of the shower when there's a knock on her door. She frowns, wrapping a towel around her body and walking towards it. She could, of course, dry herself with a charm, but she hates using it on her hair, hates how it makes her wild mane even more unmanageable.

Hari steps on her tip-toes and peeks through the peep-hole. Tony is standing on the other side, dressed casually.

She opens the door with a smile. "You're a little early," she teases.

Tony stares at her wet hair as it drips water down her shoulders. "Yes, well, I can be punctual," he says lightly. His eyes meet hers, and he smiles.

 _That smile should be illegal_ , Hari thinks. It's a satisfied and come-hither smile, one he's flashed at her after a great round of sex, or when he knows she's hot and bothered. That smile makes her stomach swoop and quiver, and she steps aside to let him in before she jumps him in the doorway.

"I have a few books for you," she says. She coughs to clear her dry throat. She walks to the kitchen island where she had set down the books, nearly drops them, and hands them to Tony.

He's still smiling at her, but it's softer, makes him look so young and boyish, and it absolutely makes her breath catch in her throat.

"A History of Magic, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, Modern Magical History, Magical Theory, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, A Muggleborn's Guide to a Magical World," he reads as he shuffles each book. Most are rather large, like tomes, but there are a couple that are rather slim.

"Some of these were my textbooks for school," she explains. "The more recent ones were Teddy's."

"This is...not what I expected," Tony admits. "It's weird but fascinating at the same time. To think we have communities just pocketed away all over the world."

Hari nods her head. "These history books are a great introduction to magic and how the Wizarding world functions. When you're done with these, I can bring you more. There are certain subjects that are our core education, like History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions. Then we have our electives, like Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Divination, Ancient Runes, and a bunch of others."

Tony's already flipping through A History of Magic, makes a small hum of consideration. "There are laws," he says, surprised.

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "Well, of course there are laws," she says slowly. "I don't really know any government that functions without them."

Tony levels her with a bland, unimpressed stare that he manages to hold for all of ten seconds before he barks out a laugh. "I meant," he says amusedly, "that magic itself has laws that govern it. Not the legal system, but the Fundamental Laws of Magic."

"Oh!" Merlin, could the floor just swallow her up right now? Hari's cheeks burn hotly, and she covers her face in embarrassment. "I misunderstood you. I'm sorry."

"It's all good," Tony says good-naturedly. "I mean, I only a genius with a few doctorates and master's degrees, and am considered the leading expert in certain fields."

Hari crosses her arms and sticks her tongue out at him. "Yeah, well, I'm a witch," she says lamely.

Tony chuckles, thoroughly amused. He sets the books down, walks over to her, envelopes her in an embrace that lets his hands wander to her ass where the towel just barely covers her. "Well, you do have a point there," he concedes. He kisses her pouting mouth, pulls away with a grin. "If I have problems understanding anything, I'll ask."

Hari narrows her eyes at him. "Are you patronizing me?"

Tony shakes his head, the very picture of innocence. "I would never!" His smile widens. "I can't remember the last time a person questioned my intelligence."

"I wasn't trying to," she says. She still feels a little embarrassed, but then she lets herself get lost in the feel of his arms wrapped around her. Hari bites her lip, peers at Tony through her eyelashes. "If I gave you something, would you be willing to forgive me?"

"Oh? And what did you get me?" His voice is deep, rumbling, and she pulls away with a shiver. "I do like presents."

Hari smiles coyly, and she walks over to the desk in her living room. She searches for the stack of papers, mentally cursing her disorganization. Tony seats himself at her couch, and she can feel his eyes on her back.

Hari lets out a small noise of triumph when she finds what she's looking for. She's a little nervous, but she's always been good at turning that anxiety into action.

"For you," she says as she presents him with the papers.

There's thirty of them totaled, all stapled together, of her favorite pictures of him, with her works cited on the back of the last page cheekily stating, "My eyes." There's a few of him lounging around his penthouse, courtesy of Rhodey, who had given her his phone number and had been delighted to send the pictures. That way she didn't have to google him and they could continue slowly discovering each other, of peeling back their layers of mystery.

Some of the pictures were of him dressed smartly in a tux, but there were more of him dressed casually, lounging around in his penthouse. She's not quite sure how Rhodey got these pictures, but she's sure it has something to do with JARVIS who she hasn't met yet.

Despite his different attire in every picture, he still has on a winning smile, laugh lines creased into his forehead, eyes sparkling happily.

Yeah, so she might swoon a lot when she sees any smile of his.

"What is this?" Tony asks quietly. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated.

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "A picture is worth a thousand words, right? This is my essay on why Iron Man is the sexiest Avenger."

"Do you even know who the Avengers are?" he asks curiously. "Have you seen the others?"

Hari shrugs carelessly. "They're your superhero boyband, right? And I don't need to see them to know you're undoubtedly the sexiest."

Tony sets her 'essay' aside, stands up. "You know, you're not helping my narcissism problem," he says lightly. He walks towards her slowly.

"You're not a narcissist," she scoffs.

"I plaster my name over everything that's mine," he points out when he's within reach of her.

She grins slyly. "I don't have your name plastered on me."

He reaches out, places his palms gently on her hips. "You don't," he agrees.

When he leans down to press a searing kiss on her lips, he tugs the towel so that it falls at her feet. She shivers a little at the sudden cool air hitting her skin, but then she's lost in the feel of his lips against hers, his hands gently stroking her hipbones, his scent lingering in her nose.

She gasps when he pulls away, chest heaving. "Are you mine?" she blurts out. "I mean, just to be clear. I like to know what page I'm on with people."

Tony starts pulling off his clothes, making sure to actually step out of his pants to avoid another incident like a few days ago. Then he's grabbing her by the hips, hoisting her against the wall with minimal effort and pressing his body to hers to keep her in place.

"I'll be yours," he promises, "and you'll be mine. And by the time I'm done with you, nobody will forget it."

And Merlin, that sends a wave of heat through her.

She stares at him with open wonder, smiles. "Prove it," she dares.

And oh, but he does.


	11. need to know that you're mine

Hari is laying on her side, staring at him when he walks back into the room. For a moment, he just stares, admires her form.

Yeah, as soon as her clothes come off, it's like he's sixteen and stupid again, but what they have going on, it's becoming much more than just sex.

She doesn't understand his work, but that doesn't stop her from listening as he rambles on and on about circuits and future artificial intelligence systems that he plans to build, an indulgent but _warm_ and _caring_ smile on her face.

She doesn't care about his money or the fact that he's a Stark. She's got plenty of her own money, and the fame that comes attached to that.

Hari is...she's different from the other women he's been with.

She's pretty damn special.

He's pretty damn lucky.

"I'm going to be really sore tomorrow," she says sleepily. She doesn't look upset; on the contrary, she looks like the cat that got the canary, an extremely lazy and satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

He curls into bed just behind her, pulls her to his chest and rests his face in her hair. "That doesn't sound like a complaint," he murmurs.

"It's not," she assures. "Who needs to go to the gym when you can just have great sex?"

Tony laughs. "Sex is technically exercise." He plays with one of her curls, oddly fascinated by the way it bounces when he tugs on it. "So, now that we're on the same page and we've confirmed that we're going to be, uh, seriously seeing each other, I was wondering if you...maybe...wanted to meet the bots?"

Hari tenses a little, shifts around so that she's facing him. Her eyes are wide but delighted. "Are you sure?" she asks. "I mean, they're basically your kids. Are you really okay with me meeting them? I don't want to pressure you if you think it's too soon or anything like that."

Tony cocks an eyebrow. "How are you pressuring me if I'm the one asking?" He shakes his head. "I think they'd like you. Don't accept any smoothie that DUM-E offers, Butterfingers and U love to play with tennis balls, and JARVIS is a great conversationalist."

She beams at him, bites her lip and nods her head. "I'd love to," she whispers. "I do plan on you meeting my children as well, but they don't have a break until Christmas. Would you...like to join us then?" She pauses. "We do spend it with my ex-husband as well as my surrogate family. Would that be a problem?"

Tony pauses, thinks about it. "Would that be awkward for you? For, uh, Draco, was it?"

She frowns thoughtfully. "No," she says softly. "I think he'll be happy that I've found someone. We were never romantically involved, but we were married for eleven years, so we're fairly close."

He nods slowly. "If it won't be awkward, then yeah. I'd love to." His voice is just as soft, quiet.

He's never been big on Christmas. It's too close to his parents' deaths. He can still remember the police officers coming to the door, informing him that he was an orphan. He can still remember the week-long bender he went on just after he laid them to rest six feet under, angry because his father's drinking was the reason why his beautiful, caring mother was cold and dead, and bitter because in the end, he was just like his father, craving the numbness that could only be found at the bottom of a bottle.

Rhodey's invited him to Christmas celebrations with his family a few times, and Tony's enjoyed himself, but it's never the same. Things were a little better when he celebrated with Pepper and he could find comfort in her warm embrace, but then they were on the rocks, and then they were no longer together.

Perhaps it's foolishly optimistic, but Tony hopes that this year will be different.

He's startled out of his thoughts when Hari gently cups his face. "Are you okay?"

Tony swallows thickly, nods his head. "Yeah, I just..." He purses his lips. "My parents died about a week before Christmas. It's not exactly my favorite holiday."

Her eyes light up in understanding, and then her smile is sad, full of the kind of sympathy that only comes with first-hand experience. "My parents were murdered on Halloween," she whispers. "I've tried over the years to celebrate it, for my children to enjoy the holiday like their friends, but I can't do it. So, if it's too difficult for you to celebrate Christmas, maybe you can meet my family on New Year's."

Tony blinks rapidly, clears his too-tight throat. "I want to try," he decides. He pauses, looks at her with concern. "Your parents were murdered?"

She grimaces. "Witches and wizards don't really concern ourselves with skin color. Rather, it's the purity of your blood that matters," she says. "To be Pureblood is to trace your lineage back at least a thousand years and find no Muggles or Muggleborns. A Half-blood is someone born to parents where only one is Pure, a Muggleborn is someone born to Muggle parents with no magic, and a squib is a person without magic born to magical parents."

"And you are…?"

"I'm a Half-blood. My father was a Pureblood, but my mother was a Muggleborn," Hari explains. "My parents were both part of an organization determined to take down Lord Voldemort. He was not dissimilar to Hitler. He rose to power the first time back in the late sixties, and he cultivated like-minded individuals to follow him as he spread Pureblood propaganda. They believed Muggles were inferior to Wizarding people, and therefore should be subjugated."

Tony cocks an eyebrow. "Somehow, I don't see that working out."

Hari snorts. "It didn't. Voldemort isn't the first wizard that's tried, and it's just ended in war all times. They think magic is what sets them apart, what makes them better and special, but it's a bunch of bollocks. Muggles don't need magic to do things, and there's nothing wrong with not having magic. My parents believed this, so they fought against Voldemort, and he killed them in retaliation. There will be more information in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, if you want to know the complete socioeconomic climate that the Wizarding world experienced."

"I'll have to give it a read through," Tony says. "I got caught up with Magical Theory, and then A Muggleborn's Guide to a Magical World snagged my attention." He plays with her hair again, tugging at random curls and watching them bounce back. "Is it weird that it doesn't surprise me at all that there are megalomaniac bastards everywhere, magical or non-magical?"

She shakes her head. "What Voldemort and his predecessors tend to forget is that, magic or no magic, we're all human. And with our humanity comes the good and the bad. Our communities have gone into hiding for a reason. The Salem Witch Trials didn't get all of us, but there were younger magical folk that couldn't defend themselves, and they died needlessly. It's why we have the Statute of Secrecy."

Tony nods slowly. "I can understand the need for secrecy, but how is that maintained if witches and wizards can be born to Muggles as well?"

"Close family is allowed to know," Hari says. "It's not a perfect system. Sometimes families take it well, sometimes they don't." Her lips purse, and she glances away from him. "My mother's sister, Dudley's mother, she and her husband both hate magic. And they taught Dudley to hate it, and none of them had a problem with letting me know how they felt. It was…not the easiest childhood."

He gently grabs her chin, tilts her head a little so that he can look into her eyes. "You seemed to get along when I met him," he says lightly.

Hari lets out a shaky sigh. "Yes, well, I saved his life at one point. And he decided that his parents were wrong about magic, and that it's not something that needs to be squashed out. He's worked hard at repairing our relationship."

Tony nods his head slowly. "Squashed out?"

Hari goes very still. "They weren't very nice," she says softly.

Why does he get the feeling that this is an understatement?

Still, if there's anything Tony knows, it's that emotional trauma is not something people just decide to talk about, so he pulls her into his arms and gently kisses her forehead. "I'm thinking you and JARVIS will get along great," he says randomly. "He sounds British, too."

Hari lets out a small laugh. "Do you have a thing for British accents?"

He ignores the way her voice sounds a little shaky. It's the least he could do, really. "He was actually named after my old butler, Edwin Jarvis. My father was too busy for me, but Jarvis was always there. When his wife Ana died, he stayed in our employ until he passed."

Hari looks at him, smiles sadly. "My godfather once told me the ones that love us never truly leave us." She taps his chest. "They'll always be with us, in here."

"Do you believe that?"

She licks her lips. "When I walked to my death," she says softly, "I had the Resurrection Stone in my hand. And I figured, I was going to die anyways, so I might as well use it, just once. I turned it three times in my hand, and my parents and my godfather appeared before me. They were always watching over me. They said they loved me, and that they were proud of the woman I'd become. It was so _easy_ , then, to die."

Tony doesn't know what to say. He's faced death himself, but he's never once thought he was ready to let it all end. Whether it was Afghanistan, palladium poisoning, the Chitauri, or Aldrich Killian, Tony's drive has been to fight, to survive, to _live_. He still has so much that he wants to do, needs to atone for, and he can't do that if he's six feet under.

His response to dying has always been to pull an Arya Stark and say, "Not today."

He stares at Hari, at this woman who has thoroughly captured his attention and left him enraptured, and he wonders how his life would have turned out if he'd never met her.

Maybe he would have picked up that bartender, Dean.

Maybe he would have somehow gotten back together with Pepper.

And he realizes that he doesn't want to know how things could have gone. He's happy with the way things are going now. He has a million questions, of course. Did she survive because Death decided she was to be its Mistress? How active was she in the politics of the Wizarding world? Was magic she used daily? Would she like his bots, his children? Would her children like him? Would her ex-husband be okay with their relationship?

But there's time to get the answers to his questions.

By Death's estimation, five or six years.

Tony pulls her in until their bodies are flush together. He gently strokes up and down her bare skin, working his way from her hips towards her back. He applies a little pressure, just enough to ease the tension that's seized the muscles near her shoulder blades.

Hari lets out a little sigh of relief, closes her eyes to enjoy his large, warm hands on her body.

"That feels nice," she murmurs.

Tony hums in acknowledgement. "I've been told a time or two that I have magic hands," he says. "It's not capable of creating miraculous feats like you can with your wand, but it's not worthless."

"You _do_ have magic hands," she agrees. She leans forward to plant a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Stay with me tonight?"

He shouldn't. "I have a meeting at ten tomorrow morning."

"I can set an alarm."

She whips out the puppy eyes, and that's just cheating at this point. It's not like self-control is his strong suit. He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep," he says.

She lets out a small cry of triumph, wraps her arms around him and snuggles in closer. "I sleep better when you're next to me," she says softly, her eyes getting heavier and heavier.

It doesn't take long for her to drift off, and then she's breathing evenly, her mouth slightly parted, soft snores escaping.

"Me too," he whispers against her hair.

* * *

"Sir, there is an owl attempting to enter the building," JARVIS informs him.

Tony stares at the ceiling incredulously, his slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. "A _what_ now?"

"An owl is a nocturnal bird of prey, although this one seems to have no problem with it being the early afternoon. Shall I open a window and let it in?"

Really, Tony's sure he did not program that kind of sass into his youngest. "Um, yes," he says unintelligently.

The owl is a beautiful, regal looking bird with dark feathers, a bright beak, and an unwavering stare that unnerves Tony. There's a letter clutched in its talons. Tony knows from one of the books Hari gave him that witches and wizards use owls to deliver their mail, but he doesn't know why she'd send him a letter when they typically text.

The writing is an elegant, loopy cursive that he doesn't recognize.

 _Mr. Stark,_

 _Hari tells me that you both have decided to pursue a relationship. While I am happy for her, as a father, it is my duty to ensure that the people that will be around my children are adequate. I'm sure you understand._

 _If you are available, I would like for us to meet Friday, October 25th for lunch. Pick a time and place._

 _My owl, Cepheus, will await a response._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

Tony stares at the letter with no small amount of trepidation. "Well, then," he murmurs. "This should be interesting."


	12. a warning

Hari thought the whispers were bad before she defeated Voldemort. Now that she is no longer just the Girl Who Lived but also the Woman Who Conquered, because originality is dead in the Wizarding world, whispers follow her everywhere. She is well practiced in ignoring them thanks to her fourth year at Hogwarts when nearly everyone turned on her and her marriage to Draco when people were not afraid to confront her and attempt to check if she was dosed with Amortentia.

Becoming an Auror didn't really help with all of the whispers, especially when she, with Ron, completely revolutionized the Auror department and, by extension, the Ministry of Magic. Progress is impossible without change, and the Ministry itself had become lazy at best and corrupt at worst. She couldn't work for it when she was still at odds with it.

It will never be perfect, but it's better than it used to be. It'll be harder for the next Dark Lord to take over, if one even tries again.

"Wand, plea—oh Merlin! You're Hari Potter!"

Hari smiles at the obviously new Watchwizard. She hands her wand over. "How are you doing today?"

The Watchwizard, Adalbert Alderton, flushes deeply, fumbles with her wand as he places it on the Wand weigher. He's so nervous that he nearly jabs her with the Probity Probe, but she keeps as easy-going smile on her face. "I'm, uh, doing well Miss Potter, thank you," he stammers out.

When he finishes the security check, he hands her back her wand almost reverently. "Have a nice day," she says brightly as she strides out of the Atrium towards the lifts. She endures the hushed whispers and the exclamations of awe with her long-suffering dignity, makes her way to level one.

The Minister's new Undersecretary, Abigail Little, is a severe looking woman with greying hair pulled into a tight bun reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. She glances at Hari and politely asks, "Do you have an appointment, Miss Potter?"

Hari likes her already, but then again anybody is a severe improvement from Umbridge. "I do," Hari says.

Little points to a chair. "The Minister is finishing his last appointment. Please have a seat while I inform him of your arrival. Would you like a refreshment while you wait? We have gilly water, butterbeer, and pumpkin juice."

"No, thank you."

With a brief nod, Little briskly walks to the Minister's office.

There's the sound of low murmurs, and Hari busies herself with her phone while she waits. She's seated for no more than ten minutes before she hears footsteps. She looks up to see the Minister walking towards her.

"Sorry about the wait, Hari," Kingsley Shacklebolt says warmly. His robes are a deep royal purple, almost reminiscent of Dumbledore's except they're lacking in bright moving patterns.

Hari stands up. "Minister," she greets amiably.

He levels her with a dry look, but leads her to his office. A large room, there are portraits of past Ministers on the walls, a larger portrait of a landscape covering most of the back wall, a rich mahogany desk in the center, bookshelves full of books and old rolls of parchment on Wizarding laws and treaties, comfortable plush chairs neatly in front of the desk.

Kingsley has been trying to get Hari to address him by his given name, but she refuses to do so in public. Given the nature of her wealth and the publicity of her success during the war, Hari has always been vigilant in making sure that everyone knows she earned her position as an Auror and her later promotion as Head Auror.

And that meant being professional with the Minister in public. To his exasperation, Ron and Hermione followed her lead once they joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"What is this about, Hari?" he asks as he sits behind his desk.

She takes a seat across from him. Her expression is sober, almost grave. "It might be prudent for the Head Auror and the Department Head to be here," she says quietly as she reaches into the pocket of her robes and withdraws a vial, puts it on the desk.

There are two memories in the vial, ethereal, wispy white strands of magic entwining and shimmering in the glass.

Kingsley stares at it, sighs. "Not a social visit, then," he says. He grabs a sheet of parchment and a quill, writes a note, and with a flick of his wand, sends it flying off. "It must be bad if the Weasleys are getting involved in their official capacities."

Hari winces. Yeah, it is bad. She'd rather not involve them at all, but if she's learned anything at all, it's that keeping something like this from her best friends will do more harm than good. They are grown, capable adults, and she can't make their decisions for them. Their involvement or lack thereof in anything is not up to her.

A brisk knock on the door signifies their arrival. Ron and Hermione walk into the room, confusion evident on their faces.

"Hari! What are you doing here?" Ron asks, his eyes flicking between Hari and Kingsley.

Hermione's eyes are also looking between the pair, but she catches a glimpse of the vial on the desk, studies the expression on Hari's face, and she knows that whatever reason Hari is sitting in the Minister's office, it's probably not good.

"Sit," Kingsley says, gesturing at the seats. He waits for them to get situated, folds his hands and turns to Hari. "We're listening."

Hari licks her dry lips. "Do you remember the alien invasion that happened in New York City about a year and a half ago?"

"A wormhole opened above Manhattan, right?" Hermione asks, her face one of rapt attention. "It was handled by Muggle superheroes with little to no intervention from MACUSA."

Hari nods her head. She pauses, thinks of the right way to phrase this, then decides that blunt honesty hasn't failed her yet. "I recently received some intelligence that an alien by the name of Thanos plans to come to Earth and wipe out half the universe."

Complete and utter silence.

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron whispers, his eyes wide.

"How did you come about this intelligence?" Kingsley asks seriously. "Is your source trustworthy?"

Hari winces. "Death," she admits quietly. They suck in a collective breath; besides Draco, these three were the only other people she told about the Mistress of Death business. _Well, now Tony knows_ , she thinks. Hari gestures to the vial. "These are my memories of the conversations."

They're already standing before she's even finished speaking. Kingsley leads them to the large landscape portrait in the back of the room, murmurs something in a language that she doesn't know. The portrait swings open, and he ushers them inside.

It's a small room with a stone pensieve in the center, intricate runes and symbols carved all along the base. Surrounding the other walls are shelves full of vials containing different memories.

It doesn't take long for them to view the memories. Ron's eyes shine analytically, and she knows he's processing the information and coming up with potential strategies. Hermione recognizes Tony Stark immediately, her mouth falling slightly before she regains her composure, focuses on every word Death is saying.

Kingsley looks grim, and she doesn't blame him.

This is grim news.

"We have five or six years to prepare for an alien invasion," Ron muses. "We have no idea the size of their forces, their abilities, nothing. A timeline is great, but we don't really have an idea what we're up against."

"No," Hari admits, "but there is footage out there of the alien invasion in New York City. It's not our best-case scenario, but something is better than nothing. We can study the videos, take notes of any abilities that we see, maybe even estimate numbers." She hesitates, continues softly, "Tony went through the wormhole. We can ask him what he saw."

Ron nods his head thoughtfully, cocks an eyebrow. "And who exactly is this Tony?"

"He's a famous Muggle known formerly for designing and selling Muggle weapons of mass destruction, and currently known as his superhero identity, Iron Man," Hermione says, studies Hari's expression with such intensity that Hari has to stop herself from squirming. "How well do you know Tony Stark?"

Hari plays with the hem of her robes. "We're seeing each other," she admits quietly. At their shocked expressions, she lifts her hands up in defense and says, "It's new. I didn't know who he was at first, and I had no idea he'd be Death's Merchant."

"Is this Tony Stark able to help?" Kingsley asks. "Will he be of any use?"

"Tony is the only reason New York City is still standing," Hari says adamantly. "If he hadn't flown that bomb into the wormhole, all of New York City would have been decimated. No more Muggle population, no MACUSA, nothing."

Kingsley holds up a hand. "Peace, Hari. I mean he is a Muggle that just found out about magic and his position as the Merchant of Death. Will he be able to work with us on this matter?"

Hari nods her head. "Like Hermione said, he is a superhero. He created his Iron Man armor and has fought a few battles. To my knowledge, he was a civilian prior to creating the suit a few years ago. He's a genius, though, and it won't be difficult to train him on battle tactics, and the like."

"How are we even going to handle this?" Ron questions. He waves a hand at Hari. "We can't exactly tell the ICW you got this information from Death."

Hari sighs heavily. It's a given that her status as the Mistress of Death stay a secret. Not only would it bring undue attention to her and her family, it could bring unsavory characters to try to usurp her unwanted position. As it is, she keeps the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's tomb, and she intends to keep it there for the foreseeable future. The Resurrection Stone is somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, and she doesn't care to look for it.

"Thanos is an alien," Hermione says slowly. "Thor is also an alien. Maybe try to arrange a meeting with him and see if he has any information about him."

"Who is Thor?" Ron asks confusedly.

Hermione levels him with an unimpressed stare. "Thor is on the Muggle superhero team, the Avengers. Honestly, Ronald, you should pay attention more to international affairs."

"I don't normally need to," he defends.

"Well clearly we need to now," she says.

Hari interrupts before they can squabble further. "I can talk to Tony, see what we can come up with." She sighs heavily. "What's our game plan for now?"

There's a long silence as all of them ponder different things. "Get that meeting with Thor," Kingsley decides. "See if we can obtain the same information from a different source. If that is not possible, well, we'll have to cross that bridge when we get to it."

Hari grimaces, nods her head. Hopefully the infamous Potter luck won't rear its head and make this task an impossible one.

"This is a global issue," Hermione says quietly. "Once we have that information, we'll have to contact the ICW, inform the other governments both magical and Muggle." She purses her lips. "This might even affect the Statute of Secrecy."

There's a heavy air that settles in the room. Hari hadn't given much thought to the Statute of Secrecy beyond recognizing that she broke it when she told Tony about magic, but Hermione has a point. Thanos is aiming to destroy at least half of the universe; she doubts he'll target only the Muggles.

This is going to be a large operation on a global scale. Magical and Muggle armies will likely have to combine and cooperate.

After all, the Statute of Secrecy was created to protect Magical people.

It can't very well do that if there aren't any Magical people left.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Ron echoes hollowly. They all exchange looks, nod in agreement.

"I'll be in touch," Hari promises, shakes Kingsley's hand. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

"Any warning is better than none," Kinsley says sagely. "This will be the biggest threat we have ever faced. I have fought by your side before, and it will be an honor to do so again." His lips twitch upwards in a small, peaceful smile. "I have faith that we will work something out. Because people need us to, and failure isn't an option."

Ron throws an arm over Hari's shoulder as they all walk out of Kingsley's office. "Feel free to take your job back," he says placidly. "I'm thinking Mione and I need a vacation. Somewhere warm, maybe the Bahamas."

Hari snorts. "No take backsies," she retorts.

Hermione shakes her head, her eyes tired. "How can you joke about this?" she asks quietly, a little shaky. She slashes her wand in the air, erects a privacy bubble around them. "Merlin, it's never going to end, is it? If it's not one Dark Lord, it's another, or an alien bent on mass genocide." She trembles a little, stares at Ron and Hari in quickly building distress.

Ron lets go of Hari. He envelopes his wife in his arms, murmuring soft, soothing words, gently strokes her back. "No, it's probably not going to end," he says just as quietly. "And maybe we shouldn't joke about it. You heard what Kingsley said, though; failure isn't an option."

Hermione sniffles. "That's wonderfully optimistic, Ron, but armies fail, governments fall, and civilizations crumble. Sometimes your best isn't enough. Sometimes the bad guys win."

"With an attitude like that, failure is bound to happen," Hari says bluntly. When Hermione looks at her, she continues, "If we fought Voldemort with the mindset that we were doomed to fail from the start, we wouldn't have won. We'd be living in a very different world, if we were left alive at all. Can we fail? Yes. But I'm not going to let that stop me. I'm not going to lay down passively and let it happen. I'm going to go out there, I'm going to prepare myself and as many people as I can, and I'm going to fight. Because the world depends on it, because I'll be damned if my children don't have a world left."

Maybe that was a little harsh, but Hermione's shoulders ease as the tension leaves her body. "You're right," she says, wipes her watery eyes. There's a newfound determination in her gaze. "Of course, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm terribly stressed."

"Hugo's been sick lately," Ron explains quietly. At Hari's alarmed look, he continues, "It was the flu, so we didn't think too much of it. But his fever wouldn't go down, so we took him to St. Mungo's and they decided to admit him. It's been a rough couple of weeks. He's doing better now, and he's out of the hospital, but we've had too many sleepless nights."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asks in concern.

Hermione shakes her head. "No, the potions are working now." She smiles tiredly, squares her shoulders and wags a finger at Hari. "Don't think I've forgotten about what you said earlier. You and Tony Stark, huh?"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Ron demands. "We're your best mates. Why do we find out the same time as the Minister?"

Hari eyes them warily, starts backing away. "It's new," she defends. "We've only been officially seeing each other for a few days."

"Come to lunch with us," Hermione says, grabbing Hari's arm and dragging her down the hall. "You're going to tell us all about him, and don't you leave out a single word!"

Hari resists. "I can't today," she says with a smile. "I have plans to see Dudley and Heather while I'm in town. But," she continues before Hermione can interrupt, "I'm thinking we can do dinner tonight. Fair?"

Ron crosses his arms, narrows his eyes at her. "Dinner," he agrees. "I'll invite the family."

Hari winces. "You can't scare him away," she says, just barely managing not to pout. "I really like him." She blushes a little. "He's going to introduce me to his kids soon."

Hermione smiles widely. "So it's serious, then?" Her smile takes on a softer edge. "I'm so happy for you, Hari. I can't wait to hear everything tonight."

"Muggle or not, if he's unworthy, I'm going to hex him," Ron decides, nods his head in affirmation.

Hari's heart warms at the evidence of their caring. "You'll like him," she assures them. Then she says slyly, "If you could come to accept Draco, then accepting Tony won't be a problem."

Ron grimaces like he often does whenever Draco is brought up. Their rivalry doesn't have that bitter and vicious edge that it used to back in their Hogwarts days, but even eleven years later it's a reflex to cringe at Draco's name.

"How did Draco take this?" Hermione asks curiously.

Hari smiles. "Not bad, so I'm sure he's planning something." She shakes her head, gives Hermione a bland look. "You know, it's almost insulting how he thinks I don't know his tells. A decade of marriage to this bloody man and he thinks I learned nothing!"

Hermione nods, an equally unimpressed look on her face. She jabs a thumb towards Ron. "This one is the same," she says.

Ron opens his mouth, thinks better of it, snaps it closed and walks away shaking his head. "Not touching that one," he mutters to himself.

Hari and Hermione follow him, giggling maniacally behind their hands.

* * *

Draco is reading his mail behind his desk when she walks into his study. "Knocking is a virtue," he says distractedly, not once looking up from the letter in his hands.

Hari snorts. "So you've been saying for the past decade. You're starting to sound like a broken record."

He finally looks at her, amused. "Don't begrudge my efforts to turn you into a well-mannered lady," he says with a smirk.

She huffs, crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him sternly. It's her 'Mum' look, one that never fails to make Teddy or Scorpius second-guess their actions. "You're up to something," she says bluntly. "What is it?"

A blonde eyebrow arches upward, the smirk not leaving his face. "This is a very Gryffindor-ish interrogation." He sets the letter down, clasps his hands together and leans forward. "Nothing gets past you, does it? Not bad for a former Head Auror."

"Draco!" Hari drags one of his antique chairs towards the desk, the legs of it scraping harshly on the wood floors. She could conjure a chair, of course, but why would she when it so obviously annoys Draco. She sits in it with no finesse, enjoys the way his eye twitches a little. "Come on, tell me. I can be very persuasive, you know. Do you need me to play good Auror, bad Auror? There's only one of me, so it won't look very pretty."

Draco rolls his eyes, grabs the letter he was reading and shoves it in her face. "Here," he says. "Now get off that; it's five hundred and sixty-two years old."

"There's no point in having chairs if you don't sit in them," she complains, but she does as he says, eyes scanning the letter in her hands.

 _Mr. Malfoy,_

 _Hari has told me a lot about you. Friday, October 25th works for me. Let's meet at The Capital Grille on Broadway at one-thirty. I'll set up the reservation._

 _I'm sure we'll have a lot to discuss._

 _Sincerely,_  
 _Tony Stark_

"Your new beau knows how to pick his dining establishments," Draco drawls. "Not bad."

Hari purses her lips, stares at him. It's a given that Draco and Tony need to meet eventually, and she doesn't begrudge him wanting to get to know the man that's now in her life and, by extension, their children's lives, but she had planned to schedule it herself. She should have known that he'd take the initiative.

"Twenty minutes," she says, sets the letter down on the desk.

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "An hour. Twenty minutes isn't nearly long enough to gauge his reactions properly."

"Twenty minutes," she argues. "I don't need you scaring him off before anything really starts!"

"If he's scared off, then he doesn't deserve to be in your life," Draco points out. "Forty-five minutes."

She lets out a small huff. "Thirty minutes, final offer."

He smirks, pleased. "Deal," he purrs. "Thirty minutes alone with him, and then you may join us."

Her eyes narrow, and she realizes with agitation that he planned this from the start. He knows she knows it, too, if his quickly widening smirk is any indication.

"You're infuriating," she informs him, because she needs to let him know this.

"A decade later and you still haven't gotten used to this, Scarhead? You're slipping."

Hari most definitely does not stomp out of his study. She does, however, send a mild stinging hex over her shoulder. Her aim is impeccable, if his startled yelp is anything to go by.


	13. can you let me try?

Tony's going to build a better google.

Really, he should have done this a long time ago. As far as search engines go, google is definitely better than yahoo or bing, but even google has failed him. And JARVIS isn't really all that helpful either.

"You can't find anything?" Tony asks, cocking his eyebrow.

JARVIS' tone is wry as he says, "These are the only available hits for your search, sir."

The holographic screen in front of him is lit, and Tony scowls at the lack of information. It's like Draco Malfoy doesn't exist, which makes sense considering the Statute of Secrecy, but it's also really fucking inconvenient.

Although Howard Stark never won any Father of the Year awards, he did impart some invaluable life lessons that Tony still employs to this day. Howard Stark was an extremely intelligent businessman. He had to be in order to create Stark Industries from the ground up and turn it into a Fortune 500 company.

One of the (only) good memories that he has of his father is when he was nearly five. He'd just successfully built his own circuit board and had ran through the halls, shrieking like a madman in excitement. He was nervous, presenting it to his father, a genius, master engineer and scientist. His insides seized because as proud of his circuit board as he was, he feared showing it to his father and ultimately not measuring up.

But instead, his father inspected the circuit board, pointed out a few flaws that had Tony disheartened, but then the man smiled. It wasn't the distant, polite smile that Tony was typically faced with. No, this was one of his _Captain America smiles_ , so named because he only looked that happy when he was looking at old photos of Captain America.

And then his father picked him up, put him on his knee, and showed Tony the book he was reading.

The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

"This is probably the best book you will ever read, Anthony," his father had said as Tony looked at the book in wonder. "It will teach you how to be a great leader for when you take over Stark Industries. But more importantly, it will help you in all aspects of your life. Read it, breathe it, live it, and you will be successful beyond measure."

Because what Tony hadn't realized was that his father had looked at his circuit board, and although he had seen the flaws and mistakes that his son had unwittingly done, he had also seen potential. He had seen his son, his legacy.

The future. And there was some kind of parental, fatherly instinct that had awoken, for however brief a time it was, and wanted to cultivate the intellect he could see in his son's warm, bright eyes.

That was before Tony grew up, before Howard's expectations grew higher and higher, before a younger Tony couldn't quite meet those demands, before their relationship started to fracture under the brunt of his father's disappointment.

So, yeah, no Father of the Year award being given. Adulthood and maturity have given Tony some context, some clarity into his father's drive for perfection, into his father's character, but it's all too little too late.

Still, despite the bitterness he still feels over his father's shitty parenting job, he cherishes those lessons spent on his father's knee, listening to the man explain with patience normally reserved for other people, not a glass of alcohol in sight.

" _If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat_ ," his father had recited. "Do you know what this means, Anthony? Whether a business competitor or a personal adversary, you must know every detail about them. An unknown enemy is unpredictable. You may win some battles, yes, but so will they, and sometimes it takes just one battle to turn the tides, to win the war."

Know thy enemy.

Tony has no doubt that Malfoy intends to measure him up, as a man, a provider, a potential parental figure for his children.

He doesn't know where he and Hari will end up, but he wants to try. He's scared shitless, doesn't know if he's the father-type since bots are less maintenance than _humans_ , but Hari is… She's worth the effort.

And although he and Hari have this agreement to take things slow and not look each other up, he has no such agreement with her ex-husband. To prepare for this upcoming 'battle' between them, he's had JARVIS scouring the internet for all information on Draco Malfoy despite knowing it was a long shot. (Seriously, the Statute of Secrecy can go burn in hell.)

From the magical books Hari had given him, Tony knows that the Malfoys are a prominent Wizarding family, part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, have held high positions in the Ministry, and also that Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, was jailed as a terrorist in 1996.

Yeah, the magical history books were fucking wild from start to finish.

From JARVIS' search history, he knows that Draco Malfoy became a solicitor in 2009.

But there's nothing else. It is a source of great aggravation.

Well, he's clearly not going to be knowing his enemy prior to their little soiree. But maybe there are protocols he could follow…

By the time it's nearly time to leave for the restaurant, his search history consists of:

· What's the protocol for meeting your partner's ex?

· Should you dominate your partner's ex?

· Should you dominate your partner's ex SOCIALLY?

· How to come out on top in a meeting with someone important?

· Father meeting step-father

· Father vetting potential step-father

· How soon is too soon to meet your partner's ex?

· What boundaries should be in place for co-parenting?

· Appropriate co-parenting boundaries

· If my partner's ex is a dick, is it chill to knock a bitch out?

· Why is meeting my partner's ex more stressful than meeting parents?

Google has utterly failed him.

"Sir, Mr. Hogan is waiting for you downstairs," JARVIS says amiably.

Tony lets out an aggrieved sigh, stands up. He smooths out non-existent wrinkles in his Armani suit, makes sure there's not a hair out of place, takes a deep breath and relaxes. He looks damn fine, he knows he does, and he pastes on his best media demeanor which consists of a jaunty grin and devil-may-care attitude.

The drive to the restaurant is mainly silent. Happy seems to know that Tony is full of anxious energy, so he doesn't say anything, just puts in a CD that starts to play _Thunderstruck_. Tony puts a note in his phone to give Happy a raise.

He arrives at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, and he gives the maître d' a winning smile and says, "Stark, party of two."

The maître d', a woman in her early twenties with her long hair neatly braided, smiles at him, flashing her perfect, white teeth. "Of course, Mr. Stark," she says softly. "Your guest has just arrived as well."

Tony doesn't know why he's surprised, but he is.

Malfoy is dressed smartly in a Gucci suit that is as ridiculously expensive as Tony's. His blond hair isn't terribly long, neatly styled, bangs parted just to the left of his forehead. _No wonder they were married for eleven years_ , is Tony's initial impression, because Draco Malfoy is more attractive than he had anticipated.

"Mr. Malfoy," he says, extends a hand to shake.

"Call me Draco," the blond says. "Mr. Malfoy was my father."

"Then I insist, call me Tony." Tony smiles, careful not to make it too shark-like in his appearance.

Draco nods his head. They sit, accepting the menus, and for a few moments, they're silent as they look it over. Once their waitress leaves with their food order, the silence that descends is almost uncomfortable. Tony almost wants to drag it out, make Draco break it first, but he's a mature adult, and another of his father's lessons rings in his head. _Pick your battles._

"Hari's told me a lot about you," he says, crossing his legs and relaxing in his chair, enough to show he's not nervous but not to the point of appearing disinterested or lazy. _Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak._

Draco smiles a secretive, half-smile, like he knows what Tony's doing and approves. "Hari enjoys talking," he says. Then his eyes become a steely grey as he sizes Tony up. "I've heard quite a lot about you as well. Not just from Hari, you understand, but also from the papers. You're quite infamous."

 _Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across._

Tony plasters on an easy-going grin. "Oh? You'll have to tell me which papers. There's so many articles about me floating around, you can never tell what's fact or fiction." His smile takes on a sharper edge. "Hari's given me a few books. I'm sure you know the sort. Your family was mentioned in them, particularly your father."

Draco chuckles. "We're mentioned in quite a few books, though I'm pretty sure I know exactly which one you're talking about." He entwines his fingers, leans forward a little. "Men like us, I suppose you could say we're destined to follow in our fathers' footsteps."

Oh, he's good.

"I like to forge my own destiny," he says, shrugs carelessly. "It's never really been my style to dance to someone else's tune."

The waitress comes back with their meal. Tony watches as Draco eats with impeccable manners, delicate in that high-class way.

"Let's cut to the chase," Draco says, setting his fork down with a minor 'clink'. "Hari is an adult and can make her own decisions. I have faith that whatever she does will be with our children's best interests in mind. Your history isn't stellar, but I am certainly not one to hold someone's past against them." He smiles, but it still has an almost plastic, condescending feel to it. "Hari is to be treated with the utmost respect and dignity as befitting a lady of her station. My children will be similarly treated. Do that, and we won't have any problems."

Tony chews his food slowly, stares at Draco thoughtfully. "Then we won't be having any problems," he says smoothly. "I don't know where me and Hari will end up. I could love her," he admits. "Or at least, I'd like to try."

"Hari is a very forgiving individual," Draco says. "It's her best and most annoying quality. She likes to believe the best in people, likes to offer them second chances. Even if they don't deserve them."

Tony cocks an eyebrow. "Are you including yourself?"

Draco smiles wryly. "You've read about my father," he says quietly. "At one point, I thought it would be an honor to follow in his footsteps. I did so happily and got quite the rude awakening when I realized what that actually meant."

Tony swallows. He nods his head slowly, digests Draco's words. Lucius Malfoy was arrested for acts of terrorism, specifically being a Death Eater, which just means he was a fanatic follower of Voldemort and did his bidding. Tony could see how Voldemort's ideologies would appeal to the Malfoys as an old, traditional Pureblood family, and he could see how Draco would be brought up believing wholeheartedly in the extremist views of his family.

For Hari to have married him, there must have been some drastic change in his worldview.

Tony lifts his water glass. "To fathers," he toasts, his smile a little bitter. _To the fathers that fucked us up,_ he thinks.

Draco smirks, lightly clinks the glasses together. "To fathers," he echoes. They drink. "I could have loved her, you know," Draco says suddenly. "If I were capable of it. But romantic relationships, they just…don't. We shared a happy marriage despite that, and yet, besides anything that deals with Teddy or Scorpius, I haven't seen her quite as happy as when she's talking about you."

Tony's smile is small, but genuine. "She's been great. Wonderful, really," he says softly. "Like I said, I don't know where we'll end up, but I'd like to be a part of her life for as long as she'll have me."

Draco nods curtly. "Good."

The lunch continues amiably, and Tony finds himself actually getting along with Draco. They're a lot alike, from their rich upbringings to their sarcastic wit. Draco's tongue is sharp, caustic, and Tony finds himself laughing as they talk about work, Teddy and Scorpius, the bots.

He's so invested in their conversation that he nearly jumps out of his skin when Hari pulls out the seat next to him and sits. She looks beautiful, her long hair unbound, jeans that are snug around her hips, a red cashmere sweater. The glare she aims at Draco looks hot enough to melt glass, but Draco appears largely unconcerned.

"Is everything okay?" he asks her, still confused about her presence.

Hari glares at Draco harder, who smirks behind his water glass. "You gave me the wrong address." she nearly growls out.

"Did I?" Draco asks slyly. He shrugs, unperturbed. "I must have gotten confused. You know how it is, learning the layout of a new city."

Tony looks between the two of them. "I didn't know you were joining us," he says, surprised.

Hari pouts when she looks at him, and he won't ever admit how much his non-existent heart melted. "I was supposed to," she says. She glares at Draco again.

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "We needed to speak uninterrupted," he says calmly. "You won't always be there to be the middleman, so to speak. Besides, he's in one piece." Draco waves the waitress down, and she arrives with a plate of food that she sets before Hari. "Enjoy, darling."

To be contrary, Hari eats her pasta with the salad fork.

Tony kind of likes her even more for it.

"The verdict?" Hari questions.

Draco smirks. "Adequate," he purrs, and Tony blinks at the leer, the suggestion in his tone. "If you're ever bored, you're welcome to share my bed."

Tony's mouth drops a little, shocked. "Are you…are you _hitting_ on me?"

Draco laughs. "You wouldn't be the first person that Hari and I have brought into our bed," he says. He pauses. "Although, I suppose it will now be me inviting you both."

Tony still stares at him in shock, not sure what to say to that. It's not like he's never had a threesome (or more) but out of all the ways he thought this meeting would go, he certainly never expected it to take this turn.

"If you're done teasing him," Hari says, "I have news."

The serious, somber tone of her voice has Tony and Draco exchanging looks. "Is everything okay?" Tony asks quietly.

Hari purses her lips. "I had a meeting with the Minister, Head Auror, and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement recently," she says. "I've made them aware of the situation."

Tony looks around. "Um, should we be talking about this here?"

"I put up a privacy charm as soon as I got here," Draco tells him. "We won't be overheard."

"Tony, would you be able to get in contact with Thor?" she asks. "If we can get him to dig up some information about Thanos, we can start going to the governments and prepare."

Tony glances at Draco. Hari must have filled him in because he doesn't look confused in the slightest. He thinks about it. "There's not really a sure way of reaching Thor," he confesses. "But he gave off certain energy readings when he first came to Earth, and the Tesseract gives off its own signature. I can have JARVIS looking out for those signatures within a certain radius."

Hari nods slowly. "It's better than nothing," she says. She hesitates, then says, "I don't know if you'll feel up to it, but it would really help if we knew what you saw when you went in the wormhole."

Her voice is soft, quiet, but her words send a spike of fear in him that he immediately squashes down.

The wormhole.

Tony was already not in the best shape mentally _before_ he sent the nuke into that fucking thing, but after? He suppresses a shiver. He can still remember the dark, cold vastness of space, nothing for miles except an alien army bent on destroying the Earth.

"I…" He clears his throat. "I can do that."

"Would it bother you if I took a copy of the memory?" she asks gently. "It would really help if I were able to show it to the Minister, and it'd give us some idea what we're going to be up against."

Tony swallows thickly but nods his head. "You'll have to explain the process to me," he murmurs.

"Of course," Hari assures. "In fact, I'll show you the process with one of my own memories. And if you're at all uncomfortable with it, we can find another way." She grabs his hand, squeezes it. "It's not _necessary_ that we get the exact memory, just easier. So, if it's something you can't do, we won't."

Tony squeezes her hand back. "Okay," he says.

"Merlin, you're both already disgusting," Draco remarks, eyebrow cocked.

Hari sticks her tongue out at him. "Bugger off, Malfoy!"

"After that disgusting display? Gladly." Draco stands up, extends a hand to Tony. "I suppose I'll be seeing you over the Christmas holiday."

Tony stands as well, shakes Draco's hand firmly. "You will," he says. "This meeting has certainly been…interesting."

Draco smirks. "Yes, it has been."

Hari gives Draco a kiss on the cheek. "If you ever pull something like this again," she says cheerfully, "I will think of a suitably appropriate punishment. And I'll get _creative_."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Noted," he says, and then he's walking out of the restaurant, leaving them at the table.

Tony sits back down. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" he asks.

Hari shakes her head, smiles softly at him. "Nope!"

"Great. How about you come to my place and I can introduce you to the bots?"

She bites her lip, nods her head. "I'd love to," she says. Her eyes sparkle happily.

"I'll have Happy bring the car over," Tony says softly.

The meeting with Draco was more of a success than he had anticipated. Now it was time for Hari to meet his bots, his children, and that was a different kind of anxiety. He hopes she likes them, because they're everything to him and they're not going away otherwise.

Well, one way to find out.


	14. your eyes, they shine so bright

Hari hopes her hand isn't too sweaty. She chews on the inside of her lip a little, feels her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. Tony doesn't seem to be nervous; he looks completely nonchalant as he leads her to his workshop in the tower, humming a little. His fingers are entwined with hers, and the warm, solid weight of it is comforting, keeps her grounded.

"DUM-E might try to give you a smoothie, but I actually like you, so please don't drink it," Tony says mildly. "If it weren't for JARVIS, I might have died from accidental poisoning a long time ago. I probably should keep the motor oil away from him, but making smoothies just makes him so happy."

Hari laughs. "DUM-E is your oldest, right?"

"He came online back in, oh, I think it was 1986. I was 16, and I wanted to be the first person to create any sort of artificial intelligence. He's a learning bot, so sometimes he helps me in the lab," Tony explains. His smile turns soft. "He saved my life once, you know. Back when I, uh, needed that arc reactor in my chest. To make a long and horrible story short, I needed to put my old reactor in, but I couldn't reach it. DUM-E could, and he gave it to me."

Hari squeezes his hand. "I'm glad," she says softly.

Tony clears his throat. "Next came U, who also helps in the lab. He likes to play with the fire extinguishers. And then came Butterfingers. Despite being the only bot with two arms, he constantly drops things. JARVIS is my last. He's...incredible, really. My first fully functional artificial intelligence. The other bots can still learn and be taught how to do things, but JARVIS seems to have a greater understanding of human behavior and other subjects that are just beyond my other boys. He may not have a body, but he is as human as anyone else."

"I certainly can't wait to meet them," Hari says happily.

"Good, because we're here," Tony says as he steps out of the elevator. He leads her down a long hallway. The door at the end opens automatically, and before she can get nervous again, he's tugging her into his workshop.

Hari stares at it, wide-eyed and awestruck. It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, high-tech gadgets and holographic screens pulled up. She is as breathless as she was the first time she entered Diagon Alley.

Because Tony's workshop is full of his own kind of magic.

"This is incredible," she whispers to him.

He seems pleased with her assessment, grins at her. "This is where I spend most of my time," he tells her. "I upgrade my suits, create new gadgets for Stark Industries, fiddle with whatever catches my eye."

Hari opens her mouth to speak, but she's cut off by electrical whirring. She turns her head and sees the bots wheeling towards them. They sound excited, beeping and making other noises that just seem so happy, similar to how Teddy and Scorpius used to rush her as soon as she got home, almost fighting with each other for her attention and kisses.

Well, it makes sense that Tony's kids are happy that he's home.

One of the bots beeps at her curiously, wheels forward slowly with one mechanical claw outstretched.

Hari smiles at the bot, reaches out with her own hand. "Hi," she says gently, shakes his claw.

The bot makes a few more beeping noises.

"This is Hari," Tony says, watching their interaction with warm eyes. "Hari, this one is DUM-E."

He takes turns introducing each of his bots, and each one wheels up to her with a claw outstretched that she makes sure to shake. Her cheeks hurt a little from smiling, but she can't help it. These are Tony's boys, and they might seem like just wires and metal to anybody else, but she can see how they're so much more than that.

Their beeps have different inflections, like they're asking him questions, and he answers every single one as if he can understand them. And maybe he can. It's not like she knew what Teddy or Scorpius' babbles meant when they were infants, but with time, she learned exactly what each of them wanted, what they were trying to tell her.

It's just something that parents do.

"Good afternoon, Miss Potter. I am JARVIS, the artificial intelligence that runs the tower," a mild voice says. It's polite, British, a little distant.

Hari doesn't take offense at all. "It's nice to meet you, JARVIS. You can call me Hari, if you like," she offers. "But only if you're comfortable with that. How are you?"

"I am functioning within normal parameters," JARVIS says a little hesitantly. "The sentiment is appreciated."

DUM-E, unhappy with her attention being elsewhere, leaves with a few beeps and clicks. U and Butterfingers also give her some space, go off in search of something to play with. They stay within reach, occasionally giving her random nuts and bolts that they find.

"Tony tells me that you like Star Trek," she says with a smile. "I've never seen an episode, but they sounded pretty interesting."

"JARVIS likes it because he has a crush on Spock." Tony grins. "Isn't that right, J?"

JARVIS sniffs. "Spock espouses a logically consistent philosophy which is deeply ethical. He was kind and compassionate in his own logical way; he recognized the virtue in those values even if he did not feel them emotionally. He faces personal challenges that reveal his vulnerabilities, but they also demonstrate his strength of character. The Enterprise would have been better off if Spock had been the captain."

Tony rolls his eyes, a testament to how often he's heard the AI's staunch defense over his favorite character.

"Those are good reasons," Hari assures. "I'll have to watch an episode or two sometime."

"Indeed," JARVIS says. He hesitates, then adds, "Perhaps another time you can join us."

Hari smiles. "I'd like that," she says softly. Excited beeping has her turning around, and she sees an oil smoothie proudly clutched in DUM-E's claw, a chef's hat precariously placed on the metal rod that makes up his arm. "Oh! Thank you."

DUM-E beeps happily when she takes the smoothie, and now she sees why Tony doesn't have the heart to take away his motor oil.

"What's this? Are you giving other people my smoothies?" Tony demands, takes the smoothie out of her hands.

DUM-E wheels over to Tony, gently pats him on the shoulder, and makes a few beeps that sound like he's trying to comfort Tony. Hari bites her lip to keep her from laughing.

As Tony starts to have a one-sided conversation with DUM-E, U and Butterfingers present her with tennis balls. She tosses them as many times as they give them to her, enjoying this bizarre game of fetch that they seem to enjoy.

Eventually they lose interest in the tennis ball, wheeling off to find something else to amuse themselves with.

Hari looks at Tony, who is fixing DUM-E's chef hat with a tender look on his face. She hums thoughtfully, turns towards the ceiling. "JARVIS? Is there any fruit around here?"

"Sir keeps a fully stocked fridge and pantry," JARVIS says, making the lights above the aforementioned items shine brightly.

Hari grins. "Perfect," she says. She turns back to Tony and DUM-E, walks to them. "DUM-E, would you like to learn a new smoothie recipe?"

DUM-E whirrs in excitement, wheeling over to the counter just to the left of the fridge fast enough that the chef hat goes flying off. Tony picks it up.

"You're going to teach him a recipe?" he asks quietly, gripping the hat in his hand.

Hari kicks off her sneakers, smiles at him. "You said he's a learning bot," she points out. "He can still make smoothies, but maybe we can show him how to make ones fit for human consumption."

She can feel his eyes on her as she walks over to the counter that must be DUM-E's smoothie station. The blender is still plugged in, greasy black oil coating the insides. She washes it out thoroughly, grabs a can of chopped pineapples and some bananas and a bag of frozen berries that she finds.

She sets about teaching DUM-E the ingredients he'll need; the bot makes beeps that sound like he understands, but she still goes slow, thoroughly explaining how to pop the lid off the can, how to peel a banana, how to pour the berries from the bag into the blender. It's not dissimilar to teaching any of her fellow classmates in Dumbledore's Army, and she quickly loses track of time.

Soon they have a smoothie that DUM-E proudly presents to Tony. He accepts it, dumbstruck, his gaze jumping from the smoothie to Hari and DUM-E. For a moment, she worries that she might have overstepped, stomped over a boundary she didn't know about, but he doesn't look angry.

There's something in his gaze that she can't quite place.

Tony takes a sip of the smoothie. "Good boy," he quietly praises DUM-E.

The bot lifts his claw in victory, rushes off, beeping happily, no doubt telling his brothers of his victory. Because although Tony has always accepted DUM-E's smoothies, he's never taken a sip from them in front of the bot.

"Do you like it?" she asks hesitantly.

Tony drains the smoothie, sets it down on the counter, maintains eye contact with her. He cups her face, kisses her slow and deep. She lets out a small noise of surprise, but then she's returning it. It's not the furious, passion-filled kisses that they typically share. Tony sets the pace, keeping it slow, taking his time tasting her, like she's a fine dish to be savored. He tastes like banana and berries.

The kiss leaves her dizzy and breathless, and she clutches onto his shoulders when she feels herself getting a little weak-legged and lightheaded.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on hers. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"You're welcome?" She's a little confused, doesn't know where that kiss came from, but she's certainly not complaining, not when she feels properly swept off her feet.

"Nobody's ever really treated DUM-E like that," he explains softly. "They look at him, and they see him like this wonderful piece of technology. A learning bot is still something of a miracle. But you, you treat him and the others like they're human, and I just... I didn't realize how important that was to me."

Hari flushes brightly. "They're your children," she says. "Not being made of flesh and bone doesn't change that."

Tony makes a small noise of appreciation, and then pulls her into another slow, breath-taking kiss that leaves her nerves tingling.

"J, put on playlist number seven," Tony says.

Music starts playing out of the speakers, and Hari lets Tony lead her in a dance, a soft swaying of their bodies, a twirl here, a spin there. It's relaxing and exhilarating all at once.

The bots, of course, do their own dance.

When Hari leaves hours later, JARVIS tells her, "We watch Star Trek every Friday night if you wish to join us, Miss Hari." There's no mistaking the warm tone.

"I would love to," she tells him, smiles at the ceiling.

She says her goodbyes to the other bots, Tony watching her with that same indescribable look on his face, and then he takes her home.

She finds that she can't wait to spend more time with them.

* * *

Hari enters the elevator of Stark Tower dressed in a t-shirt, spandex capris, and running shoes.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hari," JARVIS greets her.

She startles a little, not expecting to hear him. "Hi, JARVIS. I didn't expect to hear from you," she says warmly. "How are you today?"

"I am still functioning within normal parameters," he says.

Hari smiles. "This is rather sudden, but do you know if Tony is home? If he isn't, I can wait."

"Sir is here, but he is in his workshop. I'm afraid you don't have access to the workshop at this time," he says apologetically.

Hari waves her hand carelessly. "That's not a problem. Is he particularly busy? If he is, I can go home."

There's a brief period of silence, but then JARVIS says, "Sir is finishing an upgrade, but he will be done in approximately fifteen minutes if you wish to wait."

"That's perfect. I'm not in a rush," she assures.

The elevator lets her off on Tony's floor, and she walks towards his living room to take a seat. She briefly admires the view of Manhattan, the tall skyscrapers, the busy traffic.

"The fridge is fully stocked if you are hungry or thirsty," JARVIS says.

"I just ate, but thank you." She settles further into the comfy couch. "Would you mind answering some of my questions while I wait?"

"If it does not interfere with my protocols, I will do so."

"What's your favorite color?" she asks.

JARVIS makes a small noise. "I...don't see the point in having a preference," he confesses. "Color is nothing more than reflected light."

"That's fair enough," she concedes. "For some people, a particular color is their favorite because it reminds them of something. I am partial to the color green because it reminds me of my mum's eyes, and that's one of the few things I've inherited from her. I'm also partial to red and gold because those colors were the banner of my alma mater, and that was the first time the word 'home' ever meant something to me."

JARVIS considers this, says, "Then I suppose I would also be partial to red and gold."

"Because of Tony?"

"Sir is...special," JARVIS admits.

Hari nods her head in understanding. "He really is," she says softly. "Is that why you like Spock so much? Because he's similar to Tony?"

"How did you reach that conclusion?"

"When I went home, I did some research on Spock to see why you like him so much," Hari says. "From what I could find, Spock is an incredibly smart character who doesn't always fit in because he is half human and half Vulcan. Although Tony is one-hundred percent human, his genius level of intellect makes him stand out amongst his peers. From what he's told me, he went to MIT at a young age. He didn't have time to learn how to interact with children his own age, which led to him being socially awkward, and perhaps even a little emotionally stunted. Like Spock, he doesn't always understand how other people feel, but that doesn't stop him from empathizing with them. He has challenges that show his vulnerabilities, like everyone else, but he faces them, and he makes strides to improve himself."

There are a few moments of silence, and then JARVIS says, "I am glad Sir has found someone who appreciates him."

Footsteps alert Hari to Tony's arrival before she can say anything back.

Tony is dressed in his typical jeans and a t-shirt, but there's motor oil smeared on his cheek, the denim is dirty as if he wiped his greasy hands on his thighs, and his shirt has a few holes in it. He looks utterly comfortable, and Hari kind of loves it.

"Talking about me?" Tony asks cheekily.

"Always," Hari teases back. "Do you have any plans for today?"

Tony collapses on the couch next to her, lays out so that he can worm his head into her lap. "I finished my upgrades, so no," he tells her. He closes his eyes when she starts to play with his hair. "You can totally keep doing that, just so you know."

She lets out a small laugh. "Your wish is my command," she says. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to the gym with me."

Tony opens one eye. "The gym? Why? It's not like you or I need to go."

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "I am horribly out of shape," she tells him. "And, not to be a downer, but we have a war that we're preparing for."

"Fair enough," he says. "But you don't look out of shape to me." There's an unmistakable leer in his voice.

"I used to be able to bench press a hundred pounds. Now, I can barely do sixty," she says. She's a little angry with herself about that. Being an Auror meant constant physical exercise, keeping her body in top condition because sometimes that meant the difference between living and dying. When she stepped down from the force, there was no need to do the constant drills, the constant carefully planned meals.

"The average woman can bench press about seventy pounds," Tony points out. "Being able to do a hundred is scarily impressive. Also, kind of hot. But why do any of that at all if you have magic? Doesn't that make it all obsolete?"

"The bad guys have magic too," Hari reminds him. "And witches and wizards rely entirely too much on it. One well-placed disarming charm and that's it. There are some spells that don't have a way to block it, so shield charms can be pointless. Besides, it's much faster to dodge than it is to cast Protego."

"You are making a lot of sense," Tony admits. He snuggles even further into her lap. "The suit is rather heavy, so I've had to work mostly on strength training."

"Strength is as important as reflexes and endurance," she says. "I've told you before, magic and technology don't quite mix. And when we're in a Muggle area full of technology and electricity, that means casting a feather-light charm on an injured comrade could be dangerous. I've had to rely on physical strength alone to carry them to safety before."

Tony opens his eyes. "It sounds like you were a badass," he says. His words and his tone are light, but his eyes reflect a seriousness. "I guess, in a way, I rely heavily on my suit."

Hari shrugs. "There's no reason for it to not be your primary way of fighting. But what if, for some reason, you're out of the suit? What if your suit is damaged and you need to fight? It wouldn't be a bad idea to work on your speed and reflexes so you can nope the fuck out of that situation."

Tony chuckles. "Stop poking logic-shaped holes on my reasoning. I'll work out with you," he tells her. He stands up. "I'll need to get changed."

Hari eyes him curiously. "How much do you weigh?" she asks.

Tony shrugs. "One-seventy last time I checked."

Hari grins. She stands up, and spreads her legs shoulder-width apart. Then she squats a little, and in one maneuver, manages to haul Tony over her shoulders in a fireman's carry. He let's out a little yelp, but then he laughs breathlessly.

She does a couple of squats experimentally, and walks around as if he were a sack of potatoes. It isn't terribly difficult, but it's still harder than it used to be. "I still got it," she says proudly.

"I don't think any woman has ever been able to pick me up like this, let alone one as small as you. What are you, five foot five?" Tony asks. "I am so strangely turned on right now."

Hari laughs, sets him down. "Not many men would find that attractive."

Tony gives her a hard kiss. "Feel free to pick me up anytime," he says flirtatiously. He gives her one last kiss, then jogs down the hall. "I'm going to put on shorts!"

Hari smiles widely. She feels excited, can't wait to get back into a workout routine. It'll be fun working out with Tony. Well, working out with him fully clothed. Her smile turns a little devious.

Poor Tony doesn't know what he's getting into.


	15. this is brave, this is bruised

Tony never really thought he was out of shape. He's always been lean, fit, and when he put on the suit, he became somewhat compact, developing surprisingly hard muscle despite his (slightly) short frame. Sure, he can eat like a pig sometimes, and yeah, he indulges in alcohol more than he should, but that doesn't mean he's out of shape.

Except he is, in a strange way.

He's sweating buckets, muscles quivering with exertion, his face reddened as he pants, sucks in precious oxygen that is suddenly in short supply. The arc reactor no longer takes up room in his chest cavity, reducing his lung capacity, but breathing is such a fucking chore right now. It feels like his lungs still can't fully expand.

Hari looks better than he does. She's sweaty, her long hair tied in a messy bun, strands escaping, her beautiful face one of intense concentration.

"You're a sadist," Tony gasps out. Why did he build a gym? He's going to call demolition experts tomorrow and have them gut the place.

"Are you saying Iron Man can't handle a little cardio?" she asks cheekily, grins at him.

He glares at her. "Cardio?" he demands incredulously. "What we do in the bedroom is cardio. This? This is _hell_. I think I'd rather be a fat hobbit on a quest to destroy tacky jewelry across Middle Earth with Mordor as my destination; it would be so much easier. That's it; I'm going on a diet. Fuck, I'm too old for this."

"You're only ten years older than me," Hari points out.

Tony collapses weakly on the gym mat. "Tell my story..."

Hari laughs. "You're so overdramatic," she says. "We're not even finished."

" _WHAT_?!" Tony's not at all ashamed when it comes out at a much higher pitch than any grown man's voice should.

Hari holds up a basket of tennis balls. Her grin looks unholy, gleeful. "We need to work on your reflexes," she says with a grin. "I'm going to throw these balls at you in no particular order, and you are going to dodge them."

...why is he attracted to her? He needs a reminder.

"I think I'd rather watch you squat," he says flirtatiously. "Consider it my dying wish, since you plan on killing me."

She shakes her head. "I'm trying to keep you alive." There's a seriousness in her eyes that belays the light, joking tone she was going for. Before he can ponder it too much, she plasters on a big smile and says, "If you can dodge at least thirty percent of these, I'll make it worth your while." She winks, just in case he doesn't understand what she's implying.

Oh, he understands.

"Sounds Pavlovian," he comments, wiggles his eyebrows. Then he stands up on shaky legs. "Alright, just don't laugh at me when I look stupid."

"It'll be worth it," she assures him. "Anything that gives you a fighting chance isn't stupid."

Hari throws the first tennis ball, and Tony lets out a (manly) squeal as he leaps to the side. It hits him on his shoulder, and he's surprised at how much force was behind that throw. He really shouldn't be so shocked at this point; this woman can bodily pick him up and walk around with him draped over her shoulders like the finest feather boa.

She doesn't give him a break, keeps chucking tennis ball after tennis ball. Tony dodges as many as he can, jumping this way and tumbling that way.

"I used to do this with the new recruits," Hari tells him after a tennis ball makes contact with his right ass cheek. "There's no way to block the Killing Curse, you know. If that spell hits you, you drop dead. No second chances. Just a flash of green light and it's all over."

"You survived," Tony gasps out, rolls away as two more tennis balls come flying at him. And hadn't that been a surprise. He remembers reading The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and coming across her name. Tact kept him quiet, because being the sole survivor of an attack that killed your parents isn't something you bring up over tea, but if she's going to talk about it, he's more than willing to listen.

"Not by anything I personally did," she says quietly. "If it weren't for my mum trading her life for mine, I wouldn't be here right now."

Tony sucks in deep breaths, studies her face. "I'm sorry," he says. Because he knows what it's like to be alive due to someone else's sacrifice ( _thinking about Yinsen still **hurts**_ ) and Tony can conclude with a thousand percent certainty that it fucking sucks. "We don't have to talk about his if you don't want to."

Hari sighs, puts the tennis balls down. "It was a long time ago," she says. "And I shouldn't be this upset about it still, but I am. Halloween became a celebration in the Wizarding world, you know. Thousands of people celebrating the first fall of Voldemort. There were fireworks, feasts, parties. When I re-entered the Wizarding world, I was expected to celebrate my _triumphant_ victory. But you know what? My parents' bodies weren't even cold before I was dropped on my relatives' doorstep. While everyone was nursing hangovers because Voldemort's reign of terror was finally over, my parents were being put in the ground, our house was being turned into a monument, and I was left with _those people_."

Tony listens raptly. She's glaring at nothing by the time she's done talking, angry tears at the corners of her eyes. He stands up, walks to her, and wraps his arms around her. It's not the best hug; they're both disgustingly sweaty, and their skin makes an unpleasant squelch when they make contact, but she needs this right now.

"It's okay to not be okay," he tells her quietly. That's still something he's trying to accept himself, because he is the poster boy for denial, but it feels right to say this to her. "And it doesn't matter if it happened weeks ago or decades ago. They were your parents. You can mourn them."

She sniffles. "My parents will have been dead for thirty-two years in just a few days," she says sadly. "It didn't bother me when I was a kid, but that's because my aunt told me they'd died in a car crash, and she never told me when. And now that I'm older, now that I have kids, I just… they won't see my children grow up."

Tony rubs soothing circles on her back. "I don't know your aunt, but do you think she told you they'd died in a car crash because she felt you were too young?"

Hari scoffs, shakes her head. "No, she would never do something so kind. Not for me." She says it with such conviction that Tony's heart starts to ache. "My aunt spent years being jealous because my mum had magic, and when she found out she'd never have it, that jealousy turned to hatred, which transferred to me." Her lips thin. "They used to tell me I was so lucky they'd taken me in out of the goodness of their hearts, despite how much of a burden I was. Despite how much of a _freak_ I was. My uncle's sister liked to compare us to bulldogs. _If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup_."

The anger that settles in his stomach is wild, vicious, and he grits his teeth. The thought of a younger Hari, small and innocent, being degraded in such a manner seems like one of the biggest injustices he's ever heard of, and he almost wants to find out where these people live just so he can go curse them out in person, put the fear of a God he doesn't even believe in into these sorry wastes of space.

It's one thing to take your emotions out on an adult, however wrong and misguided that is. But to take it out on a child? It's unconscionable.

It's unforgivable.

"You're not a freak," he tells her firmly.

"I know," she whispers, but her lip trembles, and for a second, she looks lost, the pain of a broken childhood shining in her eyes.

He gently cups her face, presses his forehead against hers. "Do you know how amazing you are?" he asks. He stares at her with quiet intensity. "These last couple of months with you have been some of my greatest. I don't understand how your relatives could see you, in all of your wonderful glory, and scorn that. But they were wrong, and they deserve to suffer for it."

Her lip juts out, almost in a pout, but her eyes are crinkled around the corners, like she's trying to keep her tears at bay. "Ugh, I'm not normally so emotional," she says, her voice thick. "I'm sorry."

He kisses her forehead, then tucks her head underneath his chin. "You don't have to be sorry for being human," he murmurs into her hair. "I want this. I _want_ you to come to me when you feel this way and I _want_ to be here for you. I'm not perfect and I'll probably mess up a lot, but that's not going to stop me from trying. Because you're worth it."

Her arms wrap around his waist, and they bask in the moment, silent, until her shoulders shake a little. He pulls back, thumbs away a tear.

"Thank you," she whispers hoarsely. She brings the hem of her shirt up to wipe her face. "The first time I visited my parents' graves was when I was seventeen, and the circumstances weren't ideal. Hermione was there with me. And every year since, either she or Ron or Draco will come with me for a visit. Draco was going to come with me this year, but he's got a very important court case to prepare for, and Ron and Hermione are dealing with a sick Rose, so they can't come with me. And that's fine because I'm an adult and I can go by myself, but this year just seems to be hitting me just a bit harder, and now I'm a blubbering mess."

He understands. Their circumstances are a little different. He was already an adult when his parents died in an actual car crash. The funeral was a large affair, people from all walks of life coming to offer condolences and bemoan the loss of the great Howard Stark, some not really mentioning the impact of losing Maria Stark, all very careful not to mention the bottle of alcohol found at the floor of their car.

The official story is that Howard Stark lost control of the car, swerved, and hit a tree. Death was instantaneous for Howard, his skull cracked from where it made contact with the steering wheel. Maria Stark, on the other hand, took longer to succumb to the injuries she sustained in the crash, and died, waiting for help that would arrive too late.

Those were all the details Tony could bear to hear before he had gone on a week-long binge, tried to scrub those from his mind. His father was behind the wheel, most likely drinking as he was prone to do, and Tony was left an orphan before Christmas.

He hasn't visited their graves in years. He'd entertained the thought when he was sure he was going to die from palladium poisoning. There's a lot that he needs to get off his chest, a lot of pent-up rage and grief and despair at his father for taking away his mother, for growing up coming second best to his desperate hunt for Captain America, but then he had figured no good would come out of yelling at a slab of rock.

But he still had that choice. He knows where his parents are laid to rest, has always known the exact circumstances of their untimely demise. This new information that she's telling him breaks his heart, because she was denied that.

And Tony has no doubt that her relatives never told her where her parents were buried, especially if they were so unwilling to speak of how they died.

To keep someone in the dark about something like that is a unique kind of cruelty, a brutal kind of evil. He would rather be hurt with the truth than comforted with a lie.

Because, as his dearly departed mother had told him once, pain is temporary.

Tony bites his lip. "I could go with you," he offers. "If you want, that is."

Hari blinks, taken aback. "You would do that?"

Tony fishes out his phone, checks his calendar. "Say the word, and my schedule is clear."

She gives him a small, watery smile. "If it's not too much," she starts softly.

Tony interrupts, "JARVIS, reschedule my appointments the thirtieth, thirty-first, and the first." He puts his phone away. "We can take the jet."

"International Portkey would be faster," she says hesitantly.

Tony pauses. He never considered travelling by magical means. There's still that frisson of anxiety that curls in his gut at the thought of magic, but it gets smaller and smaller with every piece of information that he soaks up about this community that Hari is a part of.

The circumstances are less than ideal, but he's looking forward to visiting the Wizarding world.

"Would you get in trouble?" he asks. "Considering I'm a Muggle and the State of Secrecy has been thoroughly stomped on."

Hari shakes her head. "The Minister is aware, especially since we'll be working together in the future," she says. "I've got a permit for you, and I've already paid the fine."

"I get a permit just for knowing about magic?"

"Well, without this permit, you could be Obliviated for knowing too much."

Tony's lips press together firmly. "Yeah, I'd rather not," he mutters. He licks his lips and abruptly changes the subject, wants to brighten the mood, see her eyes sparkle again. "Are you sore? My limbs feel like noodles."

Hari laughs, and he smiles when her demons are chased away, just a little. "I don't feel it yet."

"Well, I do," he says bluntly. "Seriously, my ass hasn't been this sore since my twenties, if you catch my drift." He winks filthily at her.

The dour mood is brightened instantly, and she giggles and snorts in obvious humor. "It's going to get worse before it gets better," she tells him, smiles softly. "But that's life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," he says quietly. He clears his throat. "I don't know about you, but I feel disgusting. I need a shower."

"A shower would be nice. Were you inviting me to join you?"

"Do I need air to breathe?" he replies. He grabs her hand, leads her out of the gym and to the elevator.

They don't speak again about her vulnerable moment, but there's a tenderness between them, visible in the way she scrubs his back, the way he helps her wash her hair, the way they stand unmoving under the spray of hot water, a special kind of intimacy that speaks for itself.

* * *

Tony eyes the old boot skeptically. "I have to touch that," he says, brow arched high.

Hari smiles blandly. "The Ministry likes to think that turning visually unappealing objects into Portkeys will somehow make random people less inclined to pick them up," she says. "Nevertheless, this will take us to the entrance to the graveyard in Godric's Hollow. It's not the most pleasant way to travel, but whatever you do, _don't_ let go of me."

"Sounds great," he mutters. Tony takes a deep breath, wraps his arms around her and touches the boot. "Ready."

She mumbles something, and then they're off. It's the oddest sensation ever, a mix between freefalling and spinning fast enough to hurl. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels overwhelmingly nauseous, and then his feet are underneath him again, as shaky as a baby lamb's.

Hari keeps him steady. She remains blissfully still as he takes in deep breaths and tries to calm his rolling stomach.

"It's something you get used to," she assures him.

"There's got to be a way to improve that," Tony says shakily. He looks around, and notes with no small amount of wonder that they're not in her apartment anymore.

Hari leads him past the houses on the cobblestone road, and he stays by her side quietly, her arm tucked in his. As they're walking, his eyes catch on the ruined cottage just before the entrance to the graveyard. It stands out against the neat, quaint homes surrounding it. His steps falter, and Hari looks to see what catches his eye.

"You can see that?" she asks curiously.

Tony gives her a look. "My eyes work just fine."

She makes a small noise of amusement. "I'm aware," she says mildly. "It's just charmed to be hidden from Muggles. You shouldn't be able to see it."

Before he can question her further, she leads him closer to that ruined cottage.

There's a wooden sign just outside of the cottage that reads, "On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Hari, remains the only witch ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."

It would be a nice sign, if there weren't names carved into it. Names and dates of people who were so excited, so _thrilled_ , to visit the very spot where Voldemort was vanquished and wanted the world to know it.

It's sacrilegious, in a way. A family was broken here. Why can't people have some respect?

Tony feels sick to his stomach. He doesn't know what he'd do if the government tried to make his childhood manor a monument to his parents, if people left graffiti of their names every time they visited. Well, that's a lie. He knows exactly what he'd do.

He'd make them regret it.

"It's okay," Hari says quietly.

It's not okay. It's so far from okay that it's in the next time zone.

He squeezes her hand reassuringly. "I guess tact is a dead language everywhere," he murmurs.

And then he leads her away from the ruins. He doesn't know where he's going, which is evident when Hari has to tug them into the opposite direction, but at least they're getting further and further away from that cottage, from that bullshit memorial.

The graveyard is quiet, still, and Tony wonders briefly if he'll get to see a ghost. He knows that they exist and that they come and go as they please, but would he be able to see one lounging about on their headstone?

Hari comes to a stop.

The Potters share a headstone made of white marble. The inscription reads, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

"Hi mum, hi dad," Hari says quietly. "So much has happened this past year that I need to tell you." Her voice is steady, soft, but it's also wistful, and Tony strokes one of her hands with his thumb. She doesn't stop speaking for a while, telling the headstone how much Scorpius and Teddy have grown, how Evans Company is doing, how she's faring. Hari squeezes his hand. "This is Tony. He's, uh, he's been pretty great. I think you would have liked him."

His heart warms at that. "She's biased," he tells the headstone. He clears his throat. "It would have been an honor to meet the people responsible for having this beautiful woman."

Hari smiles. Her eyes shine wetly, but she doesn't look sad. Melancholy, nostalgic, maybe a tad bittersweet, but it's not like before.

"Thank you," she says softly, "for being here."

"Thank you for letting me."

Hari wipes her face, takes a deep breath. "Do you want to go to Diagon Alley? Since we're in the country and all."

"You're really asking me if I want to see more magic?" he asks teasingly. "Lead the way."

As they leave the graveyard, Tony takes one last look at the headstone. _I'll take care of her_ , he promises.

A breeze ruffles his hair softly as if in thanks.


	16. it's a kind of magic

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) We are here**  
[ ] (2013) Thor: The Dark World  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

Hari is a little nervous about bringing Tony to Diagon Alley. He's absorbed every book she's given him with the same frightening intensity as Hermione, and they've spent many nights with him asking her questions and her answering them to the best of her ability. Despite his past experience with mind control (and the Auror in her is still _irked_ that he's had that experience at all), he seems overall fascinated with magic.

She supposes it's because he's learning how magic works. That takes out the unknown component, makes it less frightening. The only problem he's had was with the Portkey, but that's because Portkeys are awful overall.

Hari feels lighter after visiting her parents, and truthfully, she feels a little silly at having become so emotional over it to begin with. It's not like this is a fresh wound. She's had plenty of time to come to terms with the fact that she is an orphan.

The Wizarding world no longer celebrates Halloween as the day Voldemort was defeated, not after she stopped him for good May 2nd so many years ago.

No, Halloween is now known as Memoria de Potter.

In Memory of Potter.

She supposes they wanted some way to honor her parents, but, like that sign outside of their ruined cottage, it falls short.

Because Hari does not need a holiday to remember and commemorate her deceased parents.

She is constantly reminded every time she looks in the mirror, sees her mother's green eyes, her father's wild and untamable mane, her lightning bolt scar, carefully concealed with foundation, that's proof of her unprecedented survival.

The best way the Wizarding world could honor her parents is to let her have some fucking peace on today of all days.

But, of course, that won't happen. She's not sure if people are purposefully obtuse or if they don't give a hippogriff's turd, but she's constantly flocked with people who want to offer condolences (carefully angled so the cameras get a good shot, of course) or restaurant owners giving her free or heavily discounted prices goods.

Nothing says _I'm so terribly sorry for your loss_ like free butterbeer and sixty percent off the Daily Prophet.

For a while, she avoided leaving her house altogether, refusing to give them the satisfaction of using her fame on one of the saddest days of her life. She would have kept doing it had Teddy not gotten sick. Draco was at work, wrapping up an important case, and she wasn't about to let her son suffer just because the world is full of dicks.

Stepping outside on Halloween became easier and easier over the years, and now it's nothing more than an annoyance that she deals with. A bland smile here, a flat stare there, and people have become accustomed to leaving her alone in relative peace. Ron and Hermione, bless them, had taken it upon themselves to shame people into giving her some peace, loudly declaring how awful and disrespectful it was to have her parents' death day so monetized.

It was a nice gesture, however fruitless it turned out to be.

Still, Hari doesn't feel that familiar burn of trepidation in the pit of her stomach.

As she leads Tony out of the graveyard, she feels nothing but calm. His presence is larger-than-life, soothing, and she finds herself relaxing, ready to deal with whatever bullshit the day will bring.

"I'll Apparate us to Diagon," she tells him. "That Portkey is only good for getting to Godric's Hollow and back to New York."

Tony nods his head. "Please tell me Apparating is better," he says blithely.

Hari winces. "Well…"

He sighs. "Flying is the best," he says. "We should fly next time. My private jet is faster than any commercial flight you could take, first class or not."

She blushes a little, happy she hasn't scared him off. "We'll make a small holiday of it," she tells him. "I can take you for a ride on my Firebolt. It was the fastest racing broom on the market when I got it."

There are faster models now, of course, but she remains terribly attached to Sirius' gift.

"Flying without the suit will be interesting," he murmurs. Tony pulls her close to him, and she nearly closes her eyes when the scent of his cologne reaches her nose. She wants nothing more than to bury her face in his chest, let those strong arms cradle her close. "Whisk me away!"

Hari snorts. Then her face becomes more serious as she says, "My Apparating has improved, but I'd like to avoid either of us getting splinched as much as possible. Keep a tight grip on me, okay?"

Tony looks a little pale, but he smiles at her and says, "This won't be the craziest trust exercise I've ever done."

When he has a firm hold on her, she murmurs a small countdown, and then they're whisked off.

Apparating is still unpleasant, like being shoved down a small tube, but it's over relatively quickly. Tony is surprisingly steady, shakes his head once to orient himself.

"I Apparated us into an alley by the Leaky Cauldron," she says, "so you can get the full Diagon Alley experience."

She leads him to the Leaky Cauldron, watches his expression carefully.

Tony stares at the sign curiously. "It's a wonder you guys can keep everything secret," he says. "The name is kind of a dead giveaway. Although, to be fair, there would probably be more of a problem with Muggles finding out in the Dark Ages when someone looking at you funny meant they were casting a spell."

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "Perhaps," she concedes, "but then again, this is another establishment that is charmed to be invisible to Muggles." She gestures at the other Muggles on the sidewalk, each going about their day, paying no mind to the Wizarding establishment.

"Then how…?" Tony frowns, unwillingly confused. "How am I able to see it? This doesn't make any sense."

"You could have a squib somewhere along your family tree," Hari says. "But I have a more likely theory."

"By all means, Professor Potter, enlighten me," Tony says with a small grin. "Because I am stumped, and that doesn't happen very often."

Hari shrugs her shoulders. "You're the Merchant of Death," she points out quietly. His grin vanishes, and she feels instantly guilty. "I'm sorry. I know it's not a title you want. Hell, if I could forget this whole Mistress of Death business, I would. But we can't, and we might have to accept that these titles are more than just pretty words. Death says these are positions. What's to say they don't affect us now?"

Tony thins his lips. "You have a point," he says begrudgingly. He sighs, shakes his head. "It's just…I'm so used to the Merchant of Death having negative connotations. It's not going to be easy to forget about all that."

She squeezes his hand consolingly. "I understand," she says softly. A heartbeat of silence, and then she clears her throat. "Come on. I think you'll enjoy the Alley. We can grab food when we're done, maybe some ice cream."

Tony pauses. "Do wizards use Mastercard?"

Hari laughs. "No, we do not," she says. "But don't worry. It'll be my treat today." She doesn't wait for an answer, starts to lead him into the Leaky Cauldron.

"I have money," Tony points out, threads their fingers together.

"So do I," Hari counters. She smiles. "And, unlike you, I have the appropriate currency to make my purchases."

"I will concede to you this time," Tony says. "But only if you let me make it up to you."

Hari narrows her eyes at him playfully. "Fine, if you insist," she murmurs. Tony smirks, victorious.

The Leaky Cauldron is rather full, bustling with activity, excited energy and rowdy crowds. It doesn't take long for them to fall silent, not when the first person catches sight of her. She tries to keep the displeasure off her face, tightens her grip on Tony's hand just a little.

One by one, every patron rises to their feet, wands up and lit in a salute. The condolences start not long after, a quiet murmur here, a louder, not as well-intentioned statement there.

Tony takes it all in stride, molding himself to her side, flashing curious on-lookers his thousand-watt smile, distracting them and taking some of the weight of their gazes onto his shoulders.

She could kiss him for that.

"Afternoon, Hari," Tom the barkeep greets quietly. "Will you and your companion be eating today?" His eyes drift to their clasped hands, but he otherwise doesn't comment on them.

"Not just yet, I'm afraid. I've got some business to do in the Alley," she replies smoothly, smiles a little at the older wizard.

She doesn't stay to make small talk, gently pulls Tony towards the back of the pub to Diagon Alley's entrance.

"I can honestly say this is the first time I've been with someone as famous as I am," Tony says mildly.

Hari winces. "I'm sorry about that," she says. "People are pretty invasive. It's public opinion that, as a public figure, my life is undeserving of privacy."

Tony scowls. "That's not something for you to be sorry about," he says. "It's not like you ask these people to completely disregard common decency."

She doesn't say anything back, smiles sadly because, out of all people, Tony gets it. He understands being a public figure, a hero in the eyes of the people, and all that that entails, the good, the bad, the annoying.

"Are you ready?" she asks him, an impish twinkle entering her eyes.

Tony puts his hands to his face, mock shock. "Magic? What a beautiful sight!"

Hari chuckles, pulls her wand out of its holster. She taps the bricks slowly, watching his face.

When the bricks separate to reveal Diagon Alley, she watches as his eyes open in genuine shock, awe and fascination in his gaze. His hands drop to his sides, and he stands there, staring.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," she says quietly, smiles at his expression.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs seriously.

Her smile grows, and that tiny curl of anxiety dissipates. "I'll show you around," she says quietly.

Leading Tony around Diagon Alley is greatly entertaining. Her children have grown up around magic so none of this is new or exciting, but Tony needs to stop at every store, grab things and play around with them. She steers clear of Gringotts since the goblins now barely tolerate her after her successful little break-in.

At Sugarplum's, he picks out an assortment of sweets, sampling them and delighting in the way his hair changes colors or the way his voice sounds completely different. He gleefully stuffs sacks full of sweet and tart candies, lets out the most indecent moan at the butterbeer fudge that turns a few heads.

They spend at least a couple of hours at Flourish and Blott's. He eyes the books with a critical eye, mumbles theories and fills a basket with a speed that would impress Hermione. There's no end to the different subjects that he selects, from magical plants to fashion charms to the education system to the Ministry reform and legislation.

As they pay for the small mountain of books, the whispers grow in volume, the stares increase, and eventually there are people trying to take pictures on the sly. She's used to it, but it's still annoying.

Tony's used to it as well, and his eyes are as sharp as hers. When they leave Flourish and Blott's, he looks into the crowd, winks, and says, "Be sure you got my good side!"

"You're taking this remarkably well," Hari remarks as they continue walking hand in hand down the alley. Tony holds onto the bags, had nearly flicked her hand when she went to help.

"Yes, well, people are assholes no matter where you go," he says, his voice just loud enough to be heard by the eavesdroppers. "I don't know how you deal with it. If people started pulling this shit on my parents' death day back home, I'd lose it."

Hari cocks an eyebrow, barely suppresses a smile when some people leave guiltily. It won't deter everyone, because some people are entitled little shits, but it's the thought that counts.

"Oi! Get out of here, you vultures! I swear, the next person that bothers Hari is going to be perma-banned from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!"

Hari smiles widely, turns to see a familiar red-haired wizard scowling. "George," she greets warmly, lets go of Tony to give George a hug.

He squeezes her a little tightly before he pulls away, eyeing Tony the entire time. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you here today," he says quietly. "And is this the Tony you've been seeing?"

Hari smacks him on the chest. "Be nice," she warns. She turns towards Tony, who is watching them curiously. "Tony, this is George."

"I'm her brother," George says, stretches out a hand for Tony to shake. "One of them, at least." He eyes Tony up and down. "You're shorter than I thought you would be."

Tony cocks an eyebrow. "I prefer the term fun-sized," he says, shakes George's hand with a smile.

There's a moment of silence, almost awkward, but then George throws his head back and laughs. "In all honesty, all I've heard nothing but great things from this one over here," the redhead says, jerking his head towards Hari. "It's almost enough to make the rest of us fall in love with ya."

"George!" Hari squeals, her cheeks burning red hot.

"Oh really?" Tony grins widely, but his own ears are warm, and the way he stares at her makes her heart do this funny little somersault in her chest. "Well, it isn't one-sided."

George smiles, but it has a sharp edge to it. "It better not be," he says brightly. Then he turns to Hari before Tony can respond. "What are you doing here today?"

Hari shrugs, offers a small smile. "I wanted to show Tony some magic," she says. "We've been shopping."

George's smile turns mischievous. "You want to see magic?" he asks Tony. He gestures to the door of his shop. "Come in, come in. I'll show you some magic. You'll get the special grand tour of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!"

"Come in, said the spider to the fly," Tony recites, looking a little worried.

"Just don't…eat anything he gives you," Hari advises, biting her lower lip.

Tony doesn't look assured in the slightest, and George's creepy, evil chuckling isn't helping the matter.

Nevertheless, Tony walks into the store, George and Hari trailing behind him.

George gives him a thorough tour, explaining what each product does, some newer inventions that he must have designed since the last time Hari's been here, and even testing a few on himself when Tony blandly refuses.

Well, Tony refuses, until he sees what they can do. He looks especially interested in the Canary Creams.

"And these are reversible," he asks for the sixteenth time.

George looks endlessly amused. "Well, it'd be bad for business if our pranks were permanent," he points out. "Besides, Hari and myself can reverse it if anything goes wrong. We do extensive testing on all of our products, but that doesn't mean a bad one here or there can't sneak in."

"I know how mass production works," Tony murmurs. He eyes Hari, and that seems to build his confidence. "Bottom's up!" He takes a bite of the joke sweet, humming in appreciation at the flavor. "It's not ba—"

With a pop, Tony turns into a large canary. He's rather startled by it, squawking and flapping his wings. Hari smiles, reaches into her pocket for her phone and snaps a couple of pictures.

"How are you doing today?" George asks softly.

Hari shrugs her shoulders. "You know how it is," she says, her voice just as quietly. "Today was a little harder than others, but it could have been worse. Tony was with me, and, uh, it was nice."

George nods his head. "Good," he says. "Ron and Mione are going to freak that I met him first." He grins widely.

Hari winces. "Well, this trip was kind of unplanned. I just thought he'd like to see the shops."

"I mean, I'd keep it a secret from them, I really would, but this trip will undoubtedly be all over the papers," George points out. "And I really want to rub it in their faces since they love to monopolize your time."

Hari nods. "Yeah, I know. I can't wait." Her deadpan delivery is exceptional.

Tony's feathers start molting, and then he's back to normal, shaking his head and looking at his hands. "Okay, that was pretty cool," he says. "I'm gonna need, like, a dozen of these."

"Using these joke products on Muggles is against the law," George says mildly.

Tony pouts. "But you used it on _meeeeeeee_."

"You're licensed. Hari wouldn't have brought you here otherwise." George takes the box from Tony's hands.

"That's fair," Tony concedes. He eyes the creams longingly, pouts.

Hari pats his arm consolingly. "Do you want to grab a bite to eat?"

"I am mildly starving," Tony says. He turns to George, offers a hand. "I'll be sure to avoid any food you give me in the future."

"Well, if I know Hari as well as I think I do, you'll probably be visiting over the holidays, and any unattended food is free game, really," George says with a smirk.

"That is…alarmingly date-rapey," Tony says, arching an eyebrow. "Do you normally slip unknown substances into random people's food when they're not looking?"

"Not random people," George assures. "Only my family. I like to think of it as training them to be constantly vigilant. Especially with this one over here. A bloke tried to slip her a love potion back in the day."

"It didn't work, and that had more to do with my common sense to not accept treats from random people more than any training from your products," Hari points out. At Tony's alarmed look, she tells him, "It was back in Hogwarts. Love potions are considered harmless because they produce positive feelings, except for Amortentia which will give you a one-way ticket to Azkaban."

"No need to worry," George says jauntily. "He never tried to slip her something ever again." His smile is sharp, like glass.

"Because you and Fred split the candies and followed him around like creepy lovesick puppies until he confessed and begged Madam Pomfrey to reverse it," Hari says with a soft smile.

"Please tell me he got punished," Tony says indignantly. "Because that's wrong on so many levels. I mean, it's nice that you took one for the team and all," he says to George, "but what if she actually ate the candy and thought she had feelings for this asshole? What if it progressed to sex? That's rape any way you look at it."

George looks approving at this line of morbid questioning. "I like him," he tells Hari.

Hari grabs Tony's hand, entwines their fingers. "I'll tell you over lunch," she says. She smiles at him, and it's probably soppy-looking, but she doesn't care.

Tony presses his lips in a firm line, then sighs. "To lunch then," he says.

They say their goodbyes to George and head back to the Leaky Cauldron. She pays for a private room and they order lunch. Tony still looks furious at the thought of someone slipping her a love potion, and his murderous expression makes her blush. Maybe it's because of how she was (grudgingly) brought up, but she still occasionally has a hard time accepting that people care.

But Tony does, and it warms her heart.

She could get used to this.


	17. can you please respect my privacy?

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) We are here**  
[ ] (2013) Thor: The Dark World  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

It's been a week since that conversation and Tony is still salty over it. His mind wanders, thinks about a younger Hari accepting those treats, eating them, being coerced into having sex with this little creep. Would she have woken up in the middle of it all, or would awareness come to her after the act?

He can't stop the anger that churns and stews in his gut. Hunting the little bastard down, although that would probably satisfy his dark need for justice, wouldn't be enough. That douchebag is just a symptom of a larger, overarching problem.

No, he wants to go to Hogwarts and give lectures on the importance of consent. Because that's where the heart of this problem lies. Someone under the influence of these so-called _love_ potions cannot adequately give consent, and so anyone using them should be charged with rape.

Tony sighs, aggravated, drops his tools with a loud clang. The bots stop the game they're playing, turn towards him and make hesitant, concerned beeps.

"I'm sorry, boys," he says softly. "I'm just…upset. It's big boy stuff."

"Sir, I hate to be the bearer of bad news…" JARVIS begins hesitantly.

Fuck, his day really could not get any worse.

"What is it, J?" he asks. He stands up and starts cleaning his mess; it's clear that he's not really going to be getting any work done.

"There's been a recent rise in articles debating the particulars of your relationship with Miss Hari," JARVIS says. There's a faint hint of disgust in his tone, and Tony knows his day _really_ just plummeted.

"Pull them up, J." He crosses his arms, reads the holographic screens with a pinched expression.

Some articles are not so bad, still invasive as they argue a timeline of his and Hari's relationship, some suggesting that they were dating since before he and Pepper broke up. He narrows his eyes at that suggestion. Playboy he might be, but cheater he is not. With an angry swipe of his hand, he tosses those articles onto another screen, taking care to note which publications they came from.

Other articles, if they can even be called that, are downright libelous, and not towards him. By now, everyone knows printing something without actual facts to back it up results in a team with Stark's finest legal team.

No, some of the more awful speculations are about Hari.

The main speculation is that Hari is after him only for his money, the evidence being Evans Company and its financial worth, which is fairly modest considering the Stark fortune. They, of course, won't have much information about Hari and her wealth since the Statute of Secrecy is in place.

It especially doesn't help that the bartender from that night, Dean, went to the tabloids, gave them a special interview on how Hari had been at the bar with someone else before leaving with Tony.

The comments on that article further sour his awful mood.

"I can't believe Stark is with such a trashy woman," one person writes.

"Well, he's bi. Aren't they all sluts anyways?" another person justifies. "He fucks anything that moves."

He reads every single comment, all six hundred and twenty-seven of them, and the anger inside him builds and builds from a house fire to a fucking volcano waiting to erupt.

Tony reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone and calls Hari.

"Hey," she says cheerfully when she picks up.

He hesitates, doesn't want to ruin her mood, but this... This is important. "Hey," he says glumly. "Have you seen the news?"

"No, is something wrong?" Great, now she's worried.

"J, can you text some of these articles to her?"

There's a brief period of silence as she undoubtedly starts scrolling through her phone. She doesn't make any noise beyond an occasional hum of acknowledgement, and he doesn't really know what to say to that. He's scrambling to find some words when she finally speaks up.

"Well, that kind of sucks," she says mildly.

"That's it? It _kind of sucks_?" he asks incredulously. "Why aren't you pissed? I'm mad as hell! These are such total bullshit! Is there no such thing as journalism anymore? Or integrity?"

"Tony, the papers back home have printed far more damaging lies about me than these," she explains softly. "I guess I'm just used to it."

He clenches his phone hard. "But that doesn't make it _right_ ," he insists. "You shouldn't have to deal with _slander_ and _libel_!" He lets out an angry grunt, runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm going to deal with this," he promises.

"How?" Hari asks curiously.

"I'm going to hold a press conference," he decides after a few minutes of silence. "I'll give Pepper a head's up, since she is still the CEO of Stark Industries, but I will have J set up a press conference and let these people know that this is unacceptable."

"You don't have to go through all that trouble," Hari says quietly.

 _I'm not worth that much trouble_ goes unsaid, but Tony still hears it anyway.

"I do," he says firmly. "This isn't right, and I've been complacent about the media and what parts of my life they report on. That will be ending shortly." He heaves a sigh. "Is there any information about you on the web that I can use as evidence? Obviously you attending Hogwarts is a no-go, but if your information is anything like Draco's, it's going to look suspicious if you just randomly pop out of nowhere without a paper trail."

"You forget that I worked at the Ministry," she points out. "Even though as an Auror my jurisdiction was primarily in the Wizarding world, every Auror still has to know how to navigate around the Muggle world, and that includes having the proper documentation. Since Muggle and Magical governments work in tandem at the highest level, the Ministry already forged my secondary education."

"That's pretty impressive," he admits.

"You say that now, but that's because you didn't have to deal with the old Ministry. Merlin, that was a nightmare," she says, sighing. "As much as we want to get to know each other slowly, it might be prudent to run a background check on myself if you plan on going through with this press conference. It'll help you be prepared."

"Or," Tony suggests, "you be a part of the conference with me."

"What?" She sounds incredulous, and he really doesn't know why.

"They printed lies about you," Tony says. "They're dragging your character through the mud. I know you think I should just let this go, but they won't stop unless you do something about it. Prove to them that pulling shit like this will cause them more trouble than it's worth."

A long silence, and then, "I _hate_ having press conferences."

He can hear the pout in her voice, and for the first time today, he smiles. "It's not my favorite thing in the world, but it can be a necessary evil. And besides, we should present a united front."

She lets out a small, soft sigh. "Okay, let me know the time and when."

* * *

The cameras go off when Tony steps to the podium of the conference room in the tower. Pepper gave him the green light for this press conference as long as he consults with his PR team ("That's what they're _there_ for, Tony.") and the conversation wasn't as awkward as he thought it would be. Things are still tense, they probably will be for a while, but the pain of their failed relationship isn't so apparent. He's finally moving on, letting go. It gives him hope that one day they'll go back to that easy friendship they used to have.

Hari sits quietly off to the side, out of sight for now. They agreed to the strategy of letting him handle things at the start of the conference. At his signal, she will join him on stage. This way they can still present a united front and she won't be subjected to dealing with the press longer than she has to.

Tony clears his throat, gets ready to start. "Thank you all for coming," he says brightly, his million-watt smile firmly in place. "You all have been busy bees lately, haven't you?" There are a few scattered chuckles from the reporters. "I grew up in the eyes of the media, so to deal with this constant gross invasion of privacy has actually become normalized for me. This is my status quo, so to speak, and it probably would have stayed that way, if Hari's name hadn't been dragged through the mud recently."

There are a few uncomfortable groans, some reporters shuffling nervously, but others square their shoulders in defiance, arms ready to ask the 'tough' questions.

One such reporter is Christine Everhart.

She doesn't raise her hand or wait for him to call on her, striding forward confidently and, with a shark-like grin on her face, asks, "What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Potter?"

Tony keeps his own smile on his face. "I believe it's still called dating," he says jauntily. The cameras flash, and he shrugs his shoulders. "That's right; I am no longer a free man. What can I say? Hari is an extraordinary woman. I'm pretty lucky to have met her."

"Is it true that the two of you met at the Pony Bar?" another reporter questions.

"Ah, I was wondering when that would come up. Yes, we met at a bar," Tony says. His smile dims a little, and he levels the reporters with a bland expression. "I was legitimately surprised at the amount of nasty comments aimed towards Hari simply because I picked her up at a bar. Is that not how adults meet sometimes? I mean, I know I've been out of the dating game for a little while, but I'm not _that_ old."

Another reporter pushes their way to the front of the crowd. "Mr. Stark, we have eyewitness testimony stating that Ms. Potter was with another man before leaving the bar with you. Are you not worried about becoming involved with someone that loose?"

"Eyewitness testimony? Am I on trial here?" Tony narrows his eyes at that reporter. "I have had sex with more people than I can count," he points out. "I was at the bar looking for someone to bring home. Why is it that when a woman does the same thing, she's considered loose or trashy? Why aren't you offended with me? Is it because I'm a man and there's this idea that this is something that men are supposed to do?"

"Mr. Stark, I didn't mean—"

"Seriously, I can't believe I'm dealing with this sexist bullshit in this day and age," he spits out, frustrated. "I'll do us all a favor and summarize what I'm sure you all came here to hear. Yes, I'm dating Hari Potter. No, she's not after my money. No, she's not trying to steal my sperm in an elaborate plot to extort obscene amounts of child support from me. No, we did not start seeing each other prior to my relationship with Pepper ending. All three of us take offense to that theory, by the way."

"Mr. Stark—"

Christine cuts off the other reporter. "Is Ms. Potter a powered individual? Will she be joining the Avengers?"

"You are overstepping, Ms. Everhart," Tony tells her firmly. "That is personal, private information that only she can divulge. I will not speak on it."

Christine grins sharply. "I think I have my answer," she purrs.

Tony rolls his eyes. He should probably be more composed, but his PR team has had to deal with a lot more than just his typical levels of sass, and this entire thing is both aggravating and exhausting. "I have given the media a lot more leeway regarding my personal life and reporting on it, probably more than I should have," he says. "But the fact remains that there is more reporting being done about my personal life than important things. How many of you know about the schools that Hari and myself have helped design and fund? Or is what goes on in my bedroom that much more news worthy?"

"Let's not forget the whole Merchant of Death business," Christine says, because she's always been one to scent weakness and go for the jugular.

Tony opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Hari is waltzing onto the stage and gently hip-checks him to the side. He blinks in shock, not really expecting her, but she just gently touches his hip and focuses on Christine.

"Ms. Everhart, is it?" she asks mildly. She pays no mind to the flashing cameras, the excited murmurs that broke out at her arrival. "I'm Hari Potter, just to put a face to the name you lot have been slandering these past few days." She pauses just to see them squirm, continues, "Tony Stark is a good man. He donates a lot of his wealth towards programs that are designed to better society. He creates marvelous inventions that make daily life easy and stress-free, inventions that I see none of you have any problems using. For the life of me, I cannot see how _reporters_ such as yourself, Ms. Everhart, can see all the good that's he accomplishing, and decide to spit on that by throwing his past in his face. As if that part of his past is shameful."

Tony stares at Hari in shock and awe. His lips gently curve into a small smile, smitten.

Christine's cheeks redden. "Stark Industries weapons were sold under the table to—"

"When Tony found out his weapons were being misused," Hari interrupts her smoothly, "he shut down the weapons sector of Stark Industries because he felt uncomfortable being a part of a system that had zero accountability. And to further _practice_ this ideal instead of merely _preaching_ it, he let the world know that he is Iron Man. I'm not saying he's above criticism or reproach. He should be held as accountable for his actions as any other citizen. But why are his mistakes being continuously thrown in his face when he is trying to grow and learn from them?"

There's an uncomfortable silence as the crowd digests her words.

Tony is remarkably touched. It's not often someone defends him so staunchly, least of all in front of so many people where her words will be printed and spread throughout multiple platforms. She's staring the crowd down unnervingly, daring them to go against her. There are a few wisps of hair falling out of her high pony tail, framing her face.

She's so fucking beautiful.

"Hari," he begins, tries to steer the discussion in a different direction.

Hari turns to him. She smiles, kisses his cheek, and then turns back to the crowd. "This man is not perfect, but he is fucking _trying_ , okay? Let's try to not be dicks about it, yeah?"

More silence, but then someone starts clapping, and then the rest of them are breaking into a round of applause. He doesn't know why since she just essentially called them all dicks, but he's too busy admiring her satisfied expression. This interview is going to be heavily censored and he doesn't even care.

"Any more questions?" he asks the crowd jauntily, prompting laughter.

The next questions that they answer together are over their relationship and how they met, but then the questions turn towards the new schools that they're building and any future plans they have for their respective companies.

"Will there be any chance of Stark Industries and Evans Company merging?" one reporter asks.

"Probably not," Tony says. "Evans Company was a wedding gift from James Potter to Lily Potter née Evans. It will forever stay Evans Company. Future collaborations, however, are open to discussion. Next question."

"Can we expect a wedding or children in the future?"

"We _just_ started dating. Next question."

"Ms. Potter, how do you feel about dating a man that is openly bisexual?"

"I can see why he's attracted to men. I guess you could say it's something we have in common," she says nonchalantly. Beside her, Tony throws his head back and laughs. "Seriously, this is a non-issue. I don't understand the big deal."

This goes on for a little longer and then the conference is wrapping up. Tony waits until the last of the reporters have filed out of the room before he sweeps Hari into his arms and gives her a deep, bruising kiss. He holds onto her like she's his lifeline, and she brings her arms up around his neck.

"Thank you," he says when he pulls away, rests his forehead on hers. "Not many people would defend me like that."

"I am sick and tired of people assuming the worst of you," she says softly. "You don't deserve it, and if I need to shout this from every rooftop in this fucking country, I'll do it. Try me."

He smiles, kisses her again, softly this time, gentle pressure of his lips against hers.

"You're amazing," he announces. "I am probably going to build a shrine to you at some point."

"Please don't," Hari says with a smile. Her stomach rumbles at that point, and she pats it. "I might be hungry."

Tony laughs. "Let's get you fed, then."

* * *

They trend on Twitter for nearly two weeks. "Tony Stark and Hari Potter are goals," one tweet says.

" _This_ is how you treat your significant other!"

"I need someone to look at me the way he looks at her."

On Tumblr there are plenty of gif sets of the press conference, of Tony expressing his annoyance and disgust at present-day sexism, of Hari staunchly defending him, of the soppy look he gives her, of her nonchalant attitude about his sexuality.

There's even a video clip of a brave reporter managing to get a comment out of Pepper as she was making her way to a business lunch in California. It's shaky, like those found footage videos, as the reporter runs towards the CEO of Stark Industries.

"Ms. Potts! How do you feel about Tony Stark moving on? Do you believe he had an affair with Ms. Potter?"

Pepper, who had been about to slip into a sleek black car, promptly stops and turns towards the reporter. She looks immaculate, suit perfectly pressed, hands manicured, not a hair out of place. Her heels make an ominous click-click as she walks towards the reporter who had stopped and was waiting for that exclusive comment.

"I am very glad that Tony is moving on," she says firmly. "Our relationship didn't work out, but that's no reason for him or myself to be miserable. My blessing is not needed, but they have it, nevertheless. And I know for a fact they did not have an affair, and to suggest so is deplorable. This is the _only_ comment I will be giving on the matter. Should you or anyone else continue to harass me…" She smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. "I will have no choice but to involve SI's extensive legal team."

The video ends there. When Tony comes across it, he retweets it with heart emojis, buys Pepper flowers, and shows the video to Hari the next time she joins him in his workshop.

"I'm glad you're repairing your friendship," she tells him. "I know how important she is to you."

"And you don't have a problem with that?" he asks.

She cocks an eyebrow. "Why should I?"

"Some people have issues with their partners keeping in contact with exes," Tony says. When the other eyebrow goes up, he clarifies, "Your case is different. You can hardly be expected to not be involved with Draco when he fathered your kids."

Hari shrugs. "I'm sure some people have problems with it, but I'm not one of them."

"I'm starting to wonder if there's anything that makes you tick," he murmurs.

"Oh, plenty. I used to have a nasty temper back in my school days, but I've mellowed out a bit." She grimaces. "I wasn't always a good friend. Sometimes I took my anger out on Ron and Hermione, and they didn't deserve that. Granted, there were extenuating circumstances at the time, but that doesn't make my behavior right."

Tony makes a small hum of acknowledgment. "I'm assuming things got better?"

Hari nods with a small smile. "They're really great. Better than I could have hoped for." She stares off into space for a moment, but then she clears her throat. "I was thinking we should have a holiday? Maybe you could come stay with me at my place in London for a bit, meet Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys."

"I'd love to," Tony tells her softly.

They're interrupted then when DUM-E comes flying into the room, a cup of smoothie with two straws in his claw. He sets it down on the table in front of them with a happy chirp. The lights dim, and then _Bella Notte_ starts playing out of the speakers.

Hari bursts into giggles. "Thank you, DUM-E," she tells the excited bot.

"They've been in a real Disney kick lately," Tony explains. He gestures to her straw. "After you."

She grins and leans down to take a sip. Tony leans after her, and it's ridiculously cheesy, but they're slurping a berry smoothie, staring into each other's eyes, his bots softly beeping in tune to the music in the background, and Tony honestly can't think of a better ending to a night.


	18. one step closer

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) We are here**  
[ ] (2013) Thor: The Dark World  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

"I'll be there," Hari promises with a smile. "I've never missed a game once, and I don't plan on starting now."

"We _know_ , mum," Teddy says, exasperated. He just barely manages to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Teddy's just nervous because we're going to cream Hufflepuff," Scorpius says as he pushes his way into view. " _Again_." He scratches his head full of thick blond hair and smirks at Hari.

Hari laughs, props the enchanted mirror on the counter as she starts pulling out things from her cupboards to fix herself some breakfast. "Gryffindor could make a comeback, you know," she points out.

Teddy and Scorpius both snort in unison. "Yeah, right," Teddy says disdainfully.

"Gryffindor hasn't had a winning streak since you left, mum," Scorpius says thoughtfully. He smiles slyly. "Thanks for that!"

Hari levels them both with an unimpressed stare. Her lips twitch upwards, and it takes everything in her to keep that disappointed look at on her face. "How have classes been going?" she asks. "Scorpius, do you still need a tutor for Herbology? And Teddy, don't think I've forgotten about that Dreadful you got on your last History exam. It's your OWL year, you know, and those exams aren't exactly a walk in the park."

Teddy scowls. "Professor Smith is incompetent," he says, his cheeks puffing out as he prepares to go on another long rant. "His exams don't even cover the reading material or the lectures! He expects us to remember every single thing he lectures on, but he talks a mile a minute, he won't slow down, and we're not even allowed to use a Quick-Quotes quill! And if you ask questions or interrupt one of his tirades, he takes house points."

Hari frowns. "Scorpius, does he do the same in your class?"

"Yes. That's why I study with the fourth-years," Scorpius admits. He glances at his brother and again at Hari. "I don't think he likes us much, mum."

Teddy rolls his eyes. "Yes, well, he can be salty at mum all he wants, but that's no reason to take it out on us," Teddy says fiercely. "And don't even get me started about the papers!"

At Hari's confused expression, Scorpius elaborates, "Well, you made the Prophet again."

 _Of course_ , she thinks sourly.

Ever since her little trip with Tony to Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet has been running article after article about her new Muggle beau. After having to deal with the press conference with Tony, Hari doesn't really want to go after the Prophet either. Not quite yet, anyway.

But Professor Smith...

"I'll talk with the Headmistress," Hari says. "He shouldn't be treating you any differently just because you're my children."

Teddy sighs agitatedly. "He's not as bad as you said Professor Snape was."

"That doesn't mean him being negatively biased towards you both is acceptable," Hari points out.

She never kept her misadventures at Hogwarts a secret from her children, didn't see the point since they would most likely hear about them like she'd heard about her father's. Her antagonistic relationship with Professor Snape is still talked about. It was one point of contention in her marriage with Draco. Snape was Draco's godfather, and so he had mainly good memories about Snape that he wanted to pass on to their children as a way to honor the man.

Hari didn't blame him; she herself had a few precious memories with Sirius that she wanted to tell their children about. But she could not pretend that she got along with Professor Snape, and she refused to lie to her children.

Because although the dour man was invaluable in the war against Voldemort, he was an awful teacher. She could understand the circumstances that made him the way he was. As a victim of bullying, she knew intimately how awful it was to face that humiliation and cruelty day after day with no end in sight.

But that cycle of abuse has to end somewhere. His rivalry was with the Marauders, particularly with James Potter and Sirius Black. Snape's grudge should have died with them, but instead, he chose to punish her for sins that were not her own.

And there is no justification for that. She was an eleven-year-old girl who grew up not knowing her parents, her godfather, or their (mis)deeds. He was an adult.

Snape should have known better.

There's no way in hell Hari's going to let this cycle continue. Her children will not be punished because of anything she or Draco did.

"Father says he met Stark," Scorpius says suddenly.

Hari pauses, an egg in her hand poised to crack. "He did," she tells them.

"Well, when do _we_ get to meet him?" the blond demands. His grey eyes are narrowed, his delicate features furrowed.

Hari puts the egg down, focuses on the mirror. "I invited Tony over to celebrate the Christmas holidays."

"Yule," Scorpius mumbles.

"I thought," Hari continues with a pointed look at Scorpius, "that it would be best if you both met him when you were out of Hogwarts so you could fully get a chance to know him."

Teddy and Scorpius exchange a look. "But that's so far away," Teddy says innocently.

"It's just over a month," Hari points out.

"It might be better if you were to bring him to watch Quidditch," Scorpius continues. He sticks his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, makes his eyes big and round.

"You can tell a lot about a man when they're watching Quidditch," Teddy agrees.

"Tony's a Muggle and I haven't explained how Quidditch is played quite yet."

"Magic isn't a prerequisite for taste," Scorpius cries, scandalized. "And mum, how _could_ you? Now Stark definitely has to come to our game!"

"You could call him Tony," Hari suggests.

"He needs to sweat the meeting out first," Teddy says. "We can't be all buddy-buddy with him just yet. What if he's not good enough for you?"

"Your father already started the vetting process," Hari says dryly. "And need I remind you that I am an adult?"

Scorpius waves her off. "Being an adult isn't a prerequisite for having common sense," he says, "or for knowing when something's not good for you."

Hari can't help the smile that spreads across her face. "You boys are sweet," she says softly. "I'm lucky to have such good boys like you for sons."

Teddy blushes a little, his cheeks rosy. The tips of his hair, which he keeps black and wild like Hari's, turn red. "You're our mum," he mumbles. "And we just want to make sure he's going to treat you right, like Father did."

"Your dad really did set the bar high," Hari muses.

Although incapable of developing romantic attachments, Draco still made sure to properly woo Hari. He gave her flowers for every holiday, held her chair out when she sat, cooked her favorite meals for her birthdays, doted upon her hand and foot when she was sick. "I need to set an example for the boys," he used to say. "I need to teach them that this is how you treat your spouse, and this is how they deserve to be treated as well. They might not want romance in their lives either, but that's no excuse to behave like a barbarian."

"So, will you bring him for our game?" Scorpius asks, his lip still exaggerated in a pout, his eyes large and pleading.

That look has swindled more cauldron cakes out of Hari than she cares to admit.

"I'll see if he can make the trip," Hari concedes. "He owns a successful Muggle technology business, and it was difficult to take a few days off, but I'll ask if he can come a few days earlier."

"You're the best, mum," Scorpius says, smirking.

"You both are to be on your _best_ behavior," she tells them, her hands on her hips, eyes slightly narrowed. It's her 'Mum' look that still manages to stop them in their tracks.

"Of _course_!" The smirk doesn't leave Scorpius' face, making him look exactly like his father. Their smugly satisfied expressions are identical.

"Don't think I've forgotten that you haven't answered my question," Hari says slyly. "Do you still need a tutor for Herbology?"

Because Scorpius is a fledging Slytherin, raised by arguably one of the best, but Hari is his mother, and she knows all of his tells. Besides, Hari herself was supposed to be in Slytherin, and although she embraces her Gryffindor side, she's been known to be as sly and cunning as any snake.

It's how she was able to live with the Dursleys, sneaking into the kitchens as night for food when they _conveniently_ forgot to feed her.

It's how she was able to prowl the corridors at night when she was at Hogwarts and only get caught for three times out of ten.

A snake flaunting its scales encourages people to be wary, to be on guard for when the snake is about to strike, but a snake that looks, talks, and acts like a lion arouses no such suspicion. Convenient, how her ex-husband and children still forget this.

The smirk drops from his face, and his lips twist into a real pout. "Yes," he admits begrudgingly.

The rest of their mirror call is spent going over their classes, life at Hogwarts, and what they want as gifts for the holidays. The call ends shortly, with Hari promising to talk to the Headmistress and Tony.

With a flick of her wrist, the radio turns on, and Hari hums as she finishes making breakfast. She enjoys the weekly calls she has with her children. It was hard, having her nest empty when they went off to school, but she's gotten used to it over the years, and calling them every Saturday makes the distance bearable.

When she's done with breakfast, she portions out two separate plates and sets them on the table. She walks to her bedroom, opens the door, and leans against the doorframe.

Tony is a rumpled mess, still sleeping, the sheets only just barely covering his ass, squeezing a pillow to his chest. Hari just sort of stares for a few moments, her heart beating fiercely in her chest. He's so handsome, so perfect.

Her cheeks flush a little.

Last night was a little rough. Tony struggles with nightmares, and although most of the time them sleeping together helps ease that, last night was particularly difficult. Hari understands, has spent many years suffering herself, will never forget waking up shrieking, her heart pounding, so sure that something was wrong. She offered him a small dose of Dreamless Sleep potion, and he had surprised her when he grabbed the spoon directly from her hand.

There's a story there, about how he doesn't like to be handed things, but he didn't hesitate last night, just grabbed it before she could place it on the wooden nightstand next to him. He was asleep within minutes, unaware of how he shook her world up just a bit with the faith he placed in her.

She almost doesn't want to wake him up.

After another moment of indecision, Hari strides over to the bed and slips underneath the covers. Tony's naked body is warm against her clothed one, and she cards her fingers through the soft, silky strands of his hair. He uses a ridiculously expensive shampoo (and her heart thuds, knowing he's left a bottle of the stuff in her shower considering how often he spends the night) and the results can't be argued with.

It's a little funny, how similar Draco and Tony are. Hari will buy whatever is on sale, but those two men share no expense when it comes to luxury products, from the finest cologne to the customized suits, both hardly blink an eye at the exorbitant prices.

"That feels nice," Tony mumbles. His eyes stay closed, but his hands reach for her and pull her close.

"I made breakfast," Hari says softly. "Bacon, eggs, toast. I'm a pretty cook, if I do say so myself."

"You spoil me." His voice is light, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of disbelief in his voice, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, soft and hesitant, unsure.

"You deserve it." She absolutely believes this, and it's okay that he doesn't quite yet. She'll keep saying it until the message sinks in.

Tony opens his eyes, and they darken when he sees what she's wearing. One of his hands snakes underneath her Iron Man t-shirt to the small of her back, and he gently caresses the soft skin, his touch feather-light. "This morning is missing something," he muses. His hand makes a slow, deliberate journey to her hip, plays with the waistline of her shorts.

Her breath hitches a little. "I made breakfast," she says again, weakly.

"You did," Tony concedes as he tugs at her shorts. He watches her carefully, ready to pull away if she puts her foot down.

Hari adores him for it. "It'll get cold," she says. It's a token protest and he knows it if his twinkling eyes are any indication.

"A tragedy," he admits. He rolls until he's on top of her, and it still marvels Hari how they click into place, how right it feels when he's pressed against her, how he fits perfectly between her legs.

Hari lets her own hands slowly explore the hard planes of muscle along his back. Tony leans down to brush his lips against hers, teasingly, and she nips at his bottom lip when he moves to pull away. "I guess breakfast can be microwaved," she murmurs.

* * *

They stay like that, basking in the afterglow for long moments. Tony rubs her hips apologetically, but she half-heartedly waves her arms in dismissal. Her legs are weak, like jelly, and when he collapses next to her, he's trembling, too.

"I am so hungry," she whines, disrupting the melody of their uneven breathing.

"Maybe we should have eaten first," Tony says.

She weakly turns her head to glare at him, but he is unrepentant, smiles innocently at her. Hari stands on shaky legs, leans against the wall before she falls. She ignores his very smug, satisfied look and walks to the bathroom to clean up.

"So, I was wondering if we could start our holiday on Saturday instead of Tuesday," she says as she steps into her bedroom, her calm voice betraying the anxiety she feels.

"Any reason why?" Tony cocks an eyebrow, rises until he's leaning on his forearms, the sheet covering his naked lower half.

Hari shrugs her shoulders. "Teddy and Scorpius don't want to wait until Christmas to meet you," she says quietly.

Tony seems to freeze, an unreadable expression on his face. "They do?" His voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Hari nods her head jerkily. "They do," she confirms. "Will you be able to do that?"

"Yes." Tony clears his throat, and Hari politely ignores how it came out a little shaky. She herself was incredibly nervous to meet his children, so she doesn't fault him on his anxiety. "Yes, of course. I would…I'd love to meet them sooner."

Hari smiles. "You'll get to see them play Quidditch."

"That's the sport on broomsticks, right?" Tony sits up fully, smiles at her. "I'll have JARVIS clear my schedule."

A comfortable silence falls before Hari clears her own throat, says, "I'll heat up breakfast if you want to get cleaned up."

Tony stands up, walks over to her. He places a small kiss on the top of her forehead. "Give me five minutes," he says.

And Hari watches as he walks into the bathroom, feeling warm and happy.


	19. the feeling you bring to me

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) We are here**  
[ ] (2013) Thor: The Dark World  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

Full version of the chapter is on AO3. The light BDSM mentioned in this chapter is built up from the full, explicit version of this story.

* * *

Sweat beads and slides down Tony's back. He grunts as he squats, exhales when he stands up. His thighs burn, ache, but at the same time, he feels great, like he could do this all day.

He's only had this routine for a couple of weeks now, but he surprisingly enjoys it. Working out is different than duking it out in the suit; there's no adrenaline to push him forward, no dying need to save a life or stop a villain. It's just him and his muscles, and the satisfaction that it is his own strength allowing him to keep up this routine.

"You're doing great," Hari tells him, her warm voice encouraging and sweet.

"That's easy…for you to say," he teases in between breaths. "You just have to…lay there…and look…pretty."

Hari lets out a small laugh from her spot draped across Tony's shoulders. She doesn't feel that heavy when he's manhandling her between the sheets, but squatting her weight is surprisingly difficult, probably because she's lean, muscular. "True," she concedes. "Come on, just two more reps."

Tony finishes with a bit more effort, and then he sets Hari down on her feet. He grabs his water bottle and greedily slurps from it, making obscene noises of satisfaction as the ice-cold liquid trickles down his parched throat. After walking in the hot deserts of Afghanistan, he will never again take clean, cold, crisp water for granted, and after a workout like he just had, he needs a few minutes to properly demonstrate his gratitude.

"What's next?" he asks her when he finally pulls away from his bottle.

"I thought you and your bottle might want a room. You know, some private time," Hari teases.

Tony snorts. "Well, I do love taking long objects into my mouth," he says, wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Another thing we have in common!"

He really loves that she is every bit as suggestive as he is. She doesn't even bat an eye at his crude jokes, goes along with them like they're commonplace. Hari has ruined him for other people.

That's a little scary because although he's dated and fucked around a lot, he's only truly given his heart to one person, and he's still terrified that his relationship with Hari will end with his heart in pieces. She hasn't given him any indication that she's displeased with him, with the way their relationship is progressing, with how fast he's grown attached to her.

But he didn't really see it coming with Pepper, either. Not entirely, at least.

Yeah, he knew Pepper was a little unhappy at times, thought he was reckless and irresponsible. To be fair to her, she's seen him at his absolute worst, rock bottom, and he shut her out. He gave her his company, but he hadn't confided in her. He hadn't let her in.

Pepper's stuck around for a lot of bullshit that he's not proud to have put her through because she didn't deserve that. And now that he's in a healthier frame of mind, now that he sees what life is like with someone else, he's glad she got out when she did and spared them both even more heartbreak.

Logically, he knows that he contributed to their problems but was not the only person responsible for the fallout of their shattered relationship.

Emotionally, everything was his fault.

It's a work in progress.

"My bottle can wait for some alone time," Tony tells her.

Hari smiles indulgently at him, shakes her head. "We're done for today. We just have to get ready. What time does the jet take off?"

"Well, I kind of _own_ the jet, so it takes off when I say it does," Tony says. He grins at her flirtatiously. "And I can think of some other exercises we can do in the meantime."

Hari wags her finger at him. "Nope!" She dances out of reach from his wandering hands. "I'm not taking the chance of us missing their game!"

His stomach makes an anxious flop. Meeting her kids seems so different than meeting Draco. What if they don't like him? What if they think he's not good enough for their mother?

He wouldn't exactly blame them because he's done a lot of questionable shit in the past, and hardly anybody that knows him can actually stand him. Would her kids liking him be a deal-breaker?

Ugh, he feels nauseous now. He does his best to hide it, though.

Tony whines, "But why can't we just use that boot again?" He manages to capture her by the waist, places a wet kiss on her neck.

Hari wiggles out of his grip. "It'll look weird if you're in America one day and in the UK the next," she says. "Especially if nobody sees your jet leave and you're not on any flight manifests."

Tony pouts. "I can say I took the suit."

"And I was just carried in your arms the entire way?" Hari cocks an eyebrow, puts her hands on her hips as she stares at him. "We're both rather high-profile, and you _know_ how far Muggle journalists will go to get a story. I'm not giving the Ministry or MACUSA any reason to revoke your license."

"Lies!" Tony sighs, stretches. "I guess I might have told the pilot we're taking off in a couple of hours. Maybe."

Hari smiles. "Good." She starts to walk away, turns. "I'm going to shower. You're going to join me. And if we can get clean and on that jet in a reasonable time, maybe you can induct me into the mile-high club." She shrugs. "Just a thought."

"That's what I'm talking about," Tony murmurs with a wicked grin.

He trails after her, probably looking like a lost puppy, definitely not giving a shit. Not when an amazing woman is telling him what to do. He didn't think it was possible for these basketball shorts to get tight, but he just lives to prove himself wrong.

* * *

The back of his jet has a mini bedroom, mostly because Tony has always been extra and thrives on impressing his conquests. He doesn't know how many people he's had on his jet, but he knows that this time is different.

Because this time is with Hari.

He must black out or something because the next thing he knows, Hari is running her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft, warm words that he can hardly make out. There's a blanket over them, keeping him nice and toasty, and he blinks dazedly for a few moments, lost and slightly concerned.

"You did so well," Hari is saying softly. "I'm so proud of you, Tony. I know how much it took for you to get this comfortable with me, and I'm so honored you think I'm worthy of this."

Her words make his heart flutter. "Ngh…?" He tries to speak, but his tongue refuses to cooperate.

Hari helps him sit up a little, presses a cup of water to his lips. He drinks almost sloppily.

"Is that better?" Hari asks softly.

Tony nods his head, looks at her confusedly. "What…?"

She keeps running her fingers through his hair, and it's almost enough for him to doze back to sleep. "I'm sorry," she tells him quietly. "I didn't think I was pushing you so hard until I saw you go into subspace."

Tony blinks at her. He cocks his head to the side. "Sub…space? Really?" He's never experienced subspace before, never felt comfortable enough with someone to be that vulnerable.

She nods her head. "We never really talked about what we're comfortable with sexually and if there are any hard or soft limits, and we're not going to talk about it now when you're just coming out of it, but that's something we're going to have to discuss later." She helps him drink some more water.

Tony glances down at his body, notes with surprise that he is clean. "…thank you," he murmurs. "I…I never…"

She smiles at him. "It was an honor," she says honestly. "And hey, we can talk about this later. I don't want you to think about anything other than safely coming back. The last thing we need is for you to drop, okay?"

Tony nods his head. He finishes the cup of water, shivers a little as the blanket slides. Hari doesn't say anything, just sets the plastic cup down and lays down with him. She pulls him in close, his nose smelling the natural scent of her skin, and his eyelids droop. He's so warm, and he feels so safe, before he knows it, he drifts off into a restful sleep.

* * *

Hari watches him carefully as they land on the ground. She's worried that he'll drop, which is a fair concern, but Tony has been feeling great these last couple of days. He's a little embarrassed, truthfully, doesn't really know how to react, if this is something that is going to be an issue. They definitely need to have that talk, but more importantly, right now they have a game to witness.

She had managed to get them a Portkey again, that same old boot, and the journey is a lot smoother this time around, his knees automatically bending slightly to help ground him once his feet touch the grass.

Tony's first impression of Hogwarts is complete amazement. He stands there in the entrance to the Quidditch stands, and he can see the castle from here. This is where Hari spent her years going to school, where she found a home and a family. The stone towers are massive, looming, and the Quidditch pitch is similar enough to a soccer field.

There are players flying overhead wearing green with silver accents and yellow with black accents. Hari fixed her hair up in pigtails that cycle through those colors, and Tony just stares around in shock, in slight disbelief. Hari leads him to the stands, pulls him off to the side and ignores the whispers that ripple through the crowd at her presence.

He's surprised when some of the whispers are about _him_. "It's Iron Man," some of the kids whisper, all squeaky excitement and childish wonder. He didn't think he was popular enough for _witches and wizards_ to know who he was.

"Mum!"

Hari's hand on Tony's arm tightens a bit, and together they turn to face the two teenagers making their way towards the stands.

Tony takes in a subtle deep breath. Meeting her children isn't the same as meeting Draco. He can't apply his ruthless businessman persona, not if he wants to show his best side as a man worthy enough to date Hari.

That twisty feeling in his gut makes another appearance.

"Tony, I want you to meet my children," Hari says softly, gestures to the two boys. "Scorpius, Teddy, this is Tony."

Scorpius looks just like his father, from the fair blond hair to the slightly angular chin. He's got those aristocratic cheekbones that could probably cut glass, and his grey eyes are slightly narrowed, calculating. There's a twinkle of mischief in them that reminds Tony entirely of Hari, though.

Teddy on the other hand looks like a carbon copy of Hari. He has wild raven hair, emerald green eyes, the same button nose and heart-shaped face. Really, it's like looking at a boy version of Hari, and Tony's already enchanted.

Teddy extends a hand, smiling slightly. "Nice to meet you," he says.

Tony shakes it, but before he can respond, Teddy's appearance seems to melt into something else. In the blink of an eye, Tony is looking at a clone of his younger self, from his cocky grin to the carefully styled coif of his hair. He stares, completely dumbfounded. He's aware of Scorpius snickering just off to the side, of Hari's soft giggles.

"That is so cool," he gasps out. "Can you just change your physical appearance? Are you only able to do that with other humans or could you turn into animals? Be honest – have you tried to turn yourself into a Pokémon?"

Scorpius' jaw falls a little.

Hari's giggles turn into full-blown laughter, the kind that has her bent over clutching her sides.

Teddy turns back to his carbon-Hari appearance, laughs. "I'm glad you like it," he says approvingly. "My birth mum used to morph her nose into a pig's snout."

Tony nearly vibrates with excitement. "Do you know how many pranks I could do on Rhodey?" he demands of Hari. "You're absolutely _sure_ you have to be born with magic?"

"Yes," Hari says indulgently, wiping her eyes.

Scorpius eyes Tony skeptically, turns his head with a slight sniff. "He'll do," he says before flouncing off towards his waiting team members.

"That's a compliment," Teddy assures with a bright smile. "Though I guess we'll get the chance to learn more about each other when you come over for Christmas."

Tony nods his head, smiles. That knot in the pit of his stomach has loosened considerably. He's a little worried about maybe not getting along with Scorpius, but these few moments before their game is hardly enough time to really get to know them. First impressions are great so far, which is honestly better than Tony had feared.

He's always been a fan of plan for the worst but hope for the best.

"Good luck on your game," Tony says.

Teddy smirks. "Scorpius is going to need it more," he says, and then he's off to join his own teammates.

Quidditch is a fucking trip. Tony thinks his heart almost can't take the stress, not when these are fucking _CHILDREN_ doing dangerous stunts from at least a hundred feet off the ground. He has a sudden, acute understanding of how Pepper felt when he would do all sorts of tricks in his suit.

Hari whoops and cheers when either side scores so Tony follows suit. He personally feels like green and silver is a better color scheme (the other children remind him of giant bumblebees flying around) so he secretly cheers a little harder for the green team and internally calls them the leprechauns.

Hari points out great aerial maneuvers and what would be considered professional-level skills, and it's all so domestic and wonderful. Scorpius is the seeker for the leprechauns and Teddy is a chaser for the bumblebees.

The game lasts for a couple of hours, and it is brutal at times. The referee calls at least five different fouls on the leprechaun team that the bumblebees take advantage of.

It's all over when Scorpius catches the snitch, and it's only then that Tony's heart is able to relax a little.

The crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers and booing.

His phone buzzes, and Tony steps to the side to answer it.

"Sir," JARVIS says, "there are readings in London that suggest that Thor is back on planet."


	20. somewhere over the rainbow

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World**  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

It's with a sad kiss to Scorpius and Teddy's heads that Hari leaves Hogwarts with Tony. She had wanted to speak with the Headmistresses and handle business while she was there, but there isn't enough time. Not with Thor back on planet and them not knowing how long this trip would last.

"JARVIS has the exact coordinates," Tony says once the portkey deposits them in the living room of Grimmauld Place. Hari follows him as he sprints up the stairs to their room and grabs a red suitcase. "Thor's in... London? Well, that's pretty fucking convenient."

Hari stares at the suitcase. "Is that your suit?"

Tony freezes, looks at her like a child caught doing something naughty. "Yes." His face closes off a little, like he's expecting her to lose her shit.

"That's some brilliant thinking," she praises. She pulls off her clothes as she runs to the closet, and then she digs out her old dragon hide armor. Tony stares at her in slight shock as she throws it on, Auror training kicking in. She pats it down, smiling when she feels her badge in her pocket. "Just in case," she assures him. "You're as much a trouble magnet as I am; we should just go to him expecting shit to go wrong."

"You're amazing," Tony says, awed.

Hari looks at him confusedly. "I'm sure there's a story behind your reaction, but we need to leave right now, so we'll talk later," she promises. "Where are we going?"

Tony looks at his phone at the blinking location on the map. "Greenwich."

"I'm going to need a bit more than that," she tells him. "I need to know exactly where I'm going, or I could Apparate us to the other side of Greenwich and Thor will be long gone before we can talk to him."

"How inconvenient," Tony deadpans as his fingers fly over the screen on his phone. "Would a cross-street help you?"

Hari glances at the screen. "Yes, that'll do. Hold tight."

She holds onto him fiercely, and before Tony can respond, they're being whisked away.

The fine hairs on her neck stand up, and she pulls Tony to the ground without a second thought. A burst of red flies overhead followed by shards of glass.

"The fuck was that?" Tony cries.

"Jane!"

Hari turns, and she sees the tall blond wearing a red cape running to a woman lying on the ground. "Thor?" she guesses. She looks around, and seeing nothing else off, she gets off of Tony, pulling him to his feet.

"Yup, that's him," Tony says cheerfully. He confidently strides over to Thor, his suitcase firmly in his hand.

"Place your hands on your heads. Step back," a copper says, his arm outstretched. Even from this distance, Hari can see how it trembles.

"This woman is unwell," Thor says.

The copper opens his mouth to speak, but Hari steps forward. She fishes out her badge, flashes it at him. "I'll take it from here," she says. "Believe me, this is above your paygrade."

The copper looks at her badge, and his eyes widen. "MI6?" he whispers.

Hari smiles. "Trust me. See this man?" She gestures at Tony, who has on a charming smile. "That's Iron Man. Between the two of us, we've got this handled."

The copper swallows thickly, then nods his head and makes a motion with his hand. The other coppers in the area lower their weapons. "MI6 on scene and taking over," he says, not bothering to mask the relief in his voice.

"I thought you retired?" Tony says quietly, his smile never dropping. "Don't they normally take those back?"

"Do they?" Hari's smile doesn't drop, either. "I suppose they forgot. How fortunate for us."

"Stark?" Thor looks confused as he helps the woman, Jane, up off the floor. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, buddy, unlike you, I _live_ on this planet," Tony says snarkily. "What are _you_ doing here? And why didn't you get the band back together? I'm crushed, truly."

Thor breaks out into a wide grin. "You haven't changed a bit, Man of Iron," he cries. He squints a little, and his smile fades. "You _have_ changed," he says quietly. "Stark, what has happened lately?"

Tony blinks in confusion. "A lot? I'm sorry, you're going to have to be specific. It's been over a year since you skedaddled back to Asgard."

Thor takes a small step forward, concern on his brow. "You're Death-Touched," he says softly. "What has happened to make it so?"

Tony freezes, and Hari steps forward. "It's a long story," she says as she reaches out a hand. "I'm Hari Potter."

Thor's eyes widen as he takes in her appearance. "You're _both_ Death-Touched," he whispers. He swallows, and then he grabs her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Forgive my manners."

"Thor, what's going on?" Jane asks, looking between the three of them in concern.

"Shit's going down," a pretty brunette helpfully supplies. "First you're gone for hours, then musclehead turns up, and now we've got _the_ Tony Stark and his girlfriend crashing our party."

"Darcy," Jane hisses.

"Girlfriend?" Thor looks at Tony in confusion. _That's right_ , Hari realizes. The last time he saw Tony was when he was still in a relationship with Pepper.

Hari takes pity on him. "As fascinating as all of this is, we have some urgent matters to discuss."

Thor purses his lips. "I need to bring Jane to Asgard. There is something terribly wrong," he says.

"This really can't wait," Hari insists.

"Field trip!" Tony says, clapping his hands. "I really need to make an intergalactic phone for you."

Thor pauses, considering. "Gather close," he says. "Heimdall will bring us to Asgard."

Hari sighs, pulling out her own phone. She sends a quick text message to Hermione, vaguely aware of Tony on his phone as well. _Found Thor. Going off planet. Should be back soon._ Tony snakes his free arm around her waist as she puts her phone away.

"Um, when do you guys plan on coming back?" Darcy asks.

There's a burst of light that erupts around them, searing into the ground but not burning them. Hari has to close her eyes at the brightness, but then they're being whisked away. It's better than travelling by Portkey; it's like being on the Gringotts cart, like freefalling from her broom. She can hear Tony whooping and hollering next to her, breathlessly laughing in joy.

And then they're walking onto a platform, flushed, adrenaline pumping.

"We have to do that again," Jane says, smiling widely.

"I absolutely agree," Tony says. "Thor, I'm a little offended you haven't shown me this before. I thought we were, what did you call it? Shield brothers?"

"Welcome to Asgard."

They all turn to the dark-skinned man smiling at them. His orange eyes are kind; his armor implies that he is a man not to be messed with.

"Heimdall," Thor greets. "We must get Jane to the healers."

Heimdall inclines his head. "I must inform the King of our visitors," he points out. He looks at Tony and Hari curiously.

Thor grimaces. "I know." He turns to Jane and offers his arm. "Come. We must get you looked at immediately."

Tony leans closer to Hari and whispers, "Are we supposed to just follow them?"

Hari's eyes flicker towards Heimdall, who meets her gaze steadily. "That'll probably be for the best," she decides.

* * *

The healers are as perplexed about Jane's condition as Thor is. They run scans on her with magic, their brows furrowing in confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you have any training in healing?" Tony asks Hari. He's watching their magic in fascination. "That looks more like science than any magic I've seen so far. Is that a quantum field generator?"

"It's a soul forge," one of the healers says, a tinge of annoyance in her distracted tone.

Jane looks at Tony and nods with a smile, whispering, "Quantum field generator."

Hari grimaces. "I know enough to keep someone from dying immediately," she says.

Thor eyes Jane worriedly. "We have some of the best healers," he says reassuringly, unaware of the doubt pinching at his eyebrows. He turns to the pair, focusing on them for the moment. "What matters do we have to discuss? Is it the...?" He waves his hand at them as if that will explain everything.

Oddly enough, it does. Eyes have been following Tony and Hari ever since they stepped foot on Asgard, curious and cautious and fascinated, but eyes nonetheless. If not for their high profiles, it would have been unnerving.

"Partly," Hari says. She takes out her wand, ignoring the small noises of surprise, and she slashes her wand in the air, erecting a privacy bubble around them.

Thor recognizes it, his lips pursing. "My people are trustworthy," he says pointedly. He eyes the wand in her hand with a frown. "And how have mortals acquired magic? Last I knew, Earth had no such skills."

"It's not a matter of trust, Point Break," Tony says, waving off Thor's attitude. "It's just, like Dr. Foster's companion said, shit's going down. And every edge we have is a chance at victory."

"Do you know anything about Thanos?"

As soon as the name is uttered, Thor's brows furrow fiercely, a sneer on his lips. The air becomes charged, and Hari suddenly recalls that Thor is the God of _Thunder_. "Why do you know of _Thanos_?" he demands. "Earth should have no knowledge of him."

Tony and Hari exchange looks. "We have intel that he's on the hunt to destroy half the universe as a tribute to Death, and Earth is in his sights," Tony says. He plasters on a smile. "I mean, he's probably never heard of eHarmony or , but those sites are very successful. Not that, uh, I would know about that _personally_..."

"Thanos, the Mad Titan, is known for destroying worlds," Thor says. His fists clench tightly. "If Earth is his next destination, I must warn my father. Midgard is one of the Nine Realms under our command, and we will protect it." He levels them with a curious look. "How did you come by this information?"

"Death," Hari says softly.

Thor sucks in a breath. "Death," he says softly. "Yes, that would be why you are Death-Touched."

"How could you tell?" Tony clears his throat. "It's, um, new. To me, at least."

"I can see it," Thor says quietly. "Everyone has an aura, and to the people trained in interpreting them, such as those of us on Asgard, your aura is tinged with Death. It's as obvious as the clothes you wear."

"Oh, _great_ ," Tony says snarkily. He runs one hand over his face, the other gripping his suitcase until his knuckles turn white.

Thor looks at him in confusion. "The trials of the Death-Touched are not easy, but it's a great honor," he insists. "In the past, it was the Asgardians who were Death's Chosen, but that was many millennia ago. Such tales are told to children, now."

"I suppose we have that in common," Hari says blandly. "To answer your question, Earth has always had magic. We just... keep our communities hidden."

"Even from your own people? But why? What sense does that make?" Thor looks frustrated.

It's unthinkable, to him, having grown up in an environment where magic is accepted and taught, for a community of people to hide themselves from everyone. Hari understands; she's had similar questions from her children when they were small, unable to comprehend why, if Muggles weren't so bad, they still had to keep their abilities secret.

"People fear what they don't understand," Tony explains, his voice soft and regretful. "Back in the Dark Ages, it was a punishable offense to be a witch or wizard. There were many people that were burned at the stake for such a crime, and the sad part is that a lot of the people that were burned had no magic to speak of."

Thor looks sick, affronted. "That's barbaric," he says firmly, crossing his hands over his chest.

"This was a long time ago," Hari points out. "Humans have grown since then. But our memories are long, and so for now, there is a Statute of Secrecy in place, preventing any witch or wizard from divulging the truth of magic."

"I know because I have a license to know," Tony explains. "And Hari here has permission from her government to speak with you. The fate of half the universe is in our hands, after all."

"I will request an audience with my father as soon as we receive news on Jane's illness." He glances over at the healers still diagnosing Jane.

"Thank you," Hari says. She bites her lip. "I do have another favor to ask."

"Name it."

Hari fidgets under their curious gaze. "I would like to speak to Loki."

Tony is already shaking his head. "Hari, you don't know the damage he did," the genius warns, worry etched into the lines of his face. "He doesn't have the scepter anymore, but that doesn't mean he isn't dangerous in his own right."

"Loki could have valuable information that we can use," Hari points out.

"My father already spoke with Loki," Thor says, frowning. "I am unsure if I could help grant this request. Loki is imprisoned for the crimes he committed on Earth. None are allowed to see him."

Hari sighs, frustrated. "Did your father ask the right questions?"

Thor hesitates. "My father questioned him alone. I… I do not know what was spoken."

Tony cocks an eyebrow at that. "I don't like the guy, but even on Earth, there's more people involved when sentencing a prisoner to ensure fairness. You're telling me he spoke with Loki, _alone_ , and then passed judgment, and everyone else was okay with that? That's a conflict of interest _at best_."

Thor shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "He's the King," he says, as if that explains everything.

"Be that as it may, it's possible that your father didn't ask the right questions," Hari says. When she has their undivided attention again, she continues, "We know Loki led the alien invasion in New York City. Were they _his_ armies?"

Thor shakes his head. "Loki has no armies to speak of."

"Then _where_ did he get the army from?"

Tony's eyes widen, and he looks at her with no small amount of understanding. "You think he was working with Thanos," he whispers.

"My brother would _never_!" Thor defends immediately, glaring at them.

"I'm not saying he did so willingly!" Hari raises her hands in surrender. "I'm just saying it makes sense."

And it does. Draco is a testament to that. Her ex-husband continued to side with Voldemort, not because he still believed in that flawed ideology, but because he felt he'd had no other choice. Because when it came down to choosing between the world and his family, he'd sooner set the world aflame himself.

"No, _listen_ , Thor," Tony cuts in before Thor can go on a rampage. "Hari has a point. Loki had the scepter when he was invading Earth, and you _know_ how that thing messes with people's heads. You said it yourself: Earth messing with the Tesseract has let other planets know that we're ready for a higher form of war. Loki and the invasion was just the opening night, the preview for what else is to come. And what better way to test Earth's forces then to send someone else to do it? It's like poker, only your brother is the poker face and Thanos is keeping his cards close."

"I don't understand that reference," Thor says. He shakes his head a little, closes his eyes. "I'd asked him before the invasion, you know. _Who controls the would-be-King?_ " When he opens them, he looks at Hari with desperation. "Do you really think Loki was not responsible for the invasion?"

"I think this theory is worth _asking_ him," Hari says gently.

Thor stares at her for a long moment, searching, and then he nods his head, opens his mouth.

There's a harsh ripping sound that startles them, and then the privacy bubble lets out a shudder. It falls, rippling into nothing. Hari turns to see an old man with his hand still outstretched towards them. He radiates authority, and, more importantly, he is surrounded by an entourage of guards.

"Father," Thor greets. He clears his throat, gestures to them. "Stark, Potter, may I present to you, the Allfather Odin Borson, King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms. Father, these are—"

"What have you done?" Odin demands, his one eye trained on Tony and Hari with a frightening intensity. "Mortals have no place on Asgard, least of all those that have been Death-Touched. Take them back."

"Father, Jane is unwell, and my companions have grave news we need to—"

"A mortal that is unwell, how shocking." Odin shakes his head. "Mortals are, by nature, defined by illness. Midgard has their own healers, their doctors, and one of them can deal with what ails her."

"This isn't an illness of Earth!" Thor cries. "Father, we must discuss a matter of _grave_ import—"

Thor's pleas fall on deaf ears. Odin sharply gestures to the guards. "Escort my son and his companions to the Bifrost," he demands.

The guards nod. One guard makes a grab for Jane's arm.

"Wait," she tries to warn, flinching back.

Hari's eyes narrow, and she feels the air getting charged, the hairs on her neck standing again, and she instinctively pulls Tony behind her, bringing her wand up.

The guard ignores Jane and Thor, and he grabs her arm firmly.

There's a burst of red, knocking everyone off their feet. Hari brings her wand up in a wordless _Protego_ , and the red energy splatters over it like a fly on a windshield with a crooning sound.

"Seriously, what the fuck is _that_?" Tony whispers from behind her, gripping his suitcase tightly.

The energy doesn't dissipate, not like it had back on Earth. It lingers in the air, twisting and slithering around her shield, almost as if it's testing it.

And then Hari hears it.

 _Parseltongue_.

Soft, quiet voices, whispering and hissing at each other.

To her horror, her scar, which has not hurt in over a decade, _twinges_.

Jane lets out a soft gasp as she is lifted into the air, the red energy draining from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Hari watches warily, dumbstruck, and she knows without looking that everyone else in the room is, too. Tony has a firm grip on her hip, almost painfully tight.

The energy gathers just in front of her, reunites with the energy already lingering in the air, intertwining, and then, quick as a serpent, it darts towards Hari and Tony.

 _Crack_.

The shield shatters.


	21. something to get off my chest

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World**  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

The backlash from Hari's shield falling sends them flying backwards, and Tony lets out a grunt when his back hits the wall. Sparks of pain creep up to his neck, making him wince. Hari's hand tightens around her wand, just barely managing to keep it.

"GET DOWN!" Thor screams, Mjolnir already crackling with electricity, pushing a weakly stumbling Jane behind him.

Tony rolls so that he's on top of Hari, shielding her with his body. Her eyes are wide, startled, and she casts another shield charm around them.

Odin shouts to the guards, "Bring Frigga!" just before one of them tackles him to the floor.

Thor's aim is true, and he pushes as much lightning into that red energy as he can, the pressure building and building until the small room is hot and it's hard to breathe.

The energy shrieks, like steam escaping from a pipe, and then it explodes into tiny, broken fragments.

Hari's shield holds up, protecting them from the blast.

Tony's hands shake just a bit as he brushes hair away from her face. He licks his lips and gets off her, carefully looking her over to make sure she's unharmed.

"Are you okay?" she asks him.

He stands up, extending a hand to pull her to her feet. "Oh, I'm peachy fucking keen," he says. He turns to Thor, demands, "What the hell is that thing?"

Thor shakes his head in confusion. "I have never seen this before."

Hari's fingers dig into Tony's arm. "It's…reforming?"

They look at the fragments, slowly converging into bigger pieces. Odin orders the room to be evacuated. The healers and guards scramble to obey, rushing out of the room. Thor leads Jane to one of the guards with orders of her being escorted to a room near his. She's resistant at first, eyeing the red energy twisting and turning on the floor with trepidation, but Thor is persistent, and soon enough she is walking out of the door, turning back and looking at him with concern.

Tony shakes his head. This doesn't make any kind of sense. He's never seen anything like this, which isn't saying much since he's only been studying magic for the past month or so, but for Thor and Hari to not know what the fuck is going on?

With an explosive sigh, Hari reaches into her left pocket. Tony's eyes widen when her hand reaches in much deeper than it should.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

She grins at him and pulls out a bound roll of leather. "While we don't know exactly what that is, I think it's safe to assume that it shouldn't be free to roam about." She unties the twine keeping the leather rolled up.

"Is that your Auror toolkit?" he asks, eyeing the many compartments and devices neatly secured in the pouches.

"Close," Hari says. She makes a small hum when she pulls out a gleaming, silver dagger, the handle carved with intricate symbols that seem to glow ominously. "Ron's older brother Bill works as a Curse Breaker. He gave us a kit each when we officially joined the Auror Corps, just in case we ever ran into anything that would need to be neutralized, if possible, or require containment otherwise."

"There are only certain containers capable of performing such a task," Odin interjects. There's not a hair out of place despite his sudden meeting with the ground. He scowls at Hari.

Hari waves him off, unconcerned. She reaches into another pouch and pulls out a smooth block of wood. "Wood is an excellent conductor for magic, otherwise our wands wouldn't work," she tells Tony. Hari gestures to the block of wood. "This is a block of rowan, which has excellent protection properties."

"What's the dagger for?" Tony asks, eyeing it skeptically. Hari smiles, but it comes out more as a grimace. She takes the dagger and slices her palm, the cut immediately spilling blood. "What the hell are you _doing_?!"

"Blood is full of magic," Hari explains. She lets the blood drip to her fingers and then starts to trace bloody symbols over the block of wood. "I'm drawing the rune thurisaz for a number of reasons. Thurisaz invokes an active defensive force, and it governs the destruction of enemies."

Tony narrows his eyes at her. "I thought blood magic was illegal?"

Hari gives him the most innocent expression she can muster. "It _is_?" At his flat look, she becomes more serious, says, "It is technically illegal, yes, but only in Great Britain. There are plenty of countries that still practice blood magic because they understand one person misusing it does not negate all the good that is possible."

Tony swallows thickly, still looking at her blood-soaked hand. "Did you have to cut yourself so badly?"

Hari keeps drawing the runes onto the block until there are several rows of bloody runes. "This is time-sensitive work, and fingers wouldn't bleed the amount of blood I need," she explains. She lets out another sigh, making her bangs fly up. She grabs onto her wand with only the barest hint of a wince, tells him, "You're going to want to stand back or put on the suit. This thing is probably going to fight me, and I don't know how bad the backlash is going to be."

Tony opens the suit, allowing the armor to enclose his body, the metal clinking and cinching together. It takes a little longer than he'd like, and Tony's already thought of six different ways he could improve it by the time his helmet snaps into place.

JARVIS' warm voice is missing, and Tony can't help but think how wrong that is. There's gotta be a way to extend JARVIS' reach to space. Not that he ever plans on being in space again, but Murphy's Law is a thing that Tony is intimately familiar with.

Hari tightens her grip on her wand. She murmurs something under her breath, and the energy lets out harsh shrieks as it is forcibly turned whole again. It tries to slither away, but with a firm flick of her wand, the energy is pulled closer and closer to the block of rowan.

The bloody runes glow ominously, a bright red-yellow that gets even brighter when the energy makes contact with it. The energy hisses, serpentine, but Hari thins her lips, and keeps her wand pointed at it.

Tony watches with horrified fascination. He's never felt so useless in his life. Not when he was slowly dying from palladium poisoning, not when he flew that bomb into the wormhole, not even when Pepper fell two hundred feet. Because in all of those events, he still had choices, options, a plan of action to follow. He could still do something, whether it was (re)discover a new element, fly into space with a wormhole on his back, or desperately reach out his hand.

But this?

This otherworldly battle where magic determines the victor?

He can't help Hari with this.

Hari's eyes glow a poisonous, acidic green, and Tony's breath catches in his throat when her lightning bolt scar, the scar that reminds her of what she's lost, the scar that shot her into stardom, that same fucking scar that she painstakingly covers every single day, is split open.

Tony isn't a medical doctor, but even he knows that shouldn't be possible. That scar is over thirty years old, long healed, but now it's an angry, irritated crimson that drips down her face until it looks like she's crying blood.

 _Scars don't do that._

The energy shrieks in excitement, thrashes in an attempt to reach Hari, but she grits her teeth, plants her feet firmly, and she doesn't budge. The rowan starts to smoke as the red-hot runes are scorched into it, and with a final slash of her wand, the energy is sealed into the rowan with furious and mournful hisses.

Hari takes a deep breath, and she sways at her feet.

Tony's at her side in an instant, his helmet snapping back to reveal his worried face. "Hari? Come on, hun, talk to me," he says, reaching out to steady her.

She blinks sluggishly and turns to him. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot, and her scar is oozing a mixture of blood and plasma. Her face is grey, pasty. "Tha' was... not fun," she says decisively, nods her head in confirmation. Then her hands reach up to clutch her skull and she moans, "No' a good idea!"

The suit peels off him and folds conveniently back into the suitcase. "She needs help," Tony says, looking over at Thor.

Thor is staring at her in something akin to awe and respect, and while that's nice and all, feelings don't heal cuts, so he clears his throat pointedly. Thor's attention snaps over to Tony, and he says simply, "She is worthy."

"Of course, she is," Tony snaps. "She's worth some medical attention after she just saved our asses."

"I can help her."

Tony turns towards the new voice. A woman with long, curly red hair is standing in the entryway wearing a long, flowing blue dress that nearly pools at her feet. She walks towards them briskly, her hand glowing as she arcs it. He tenses, eyeing her skeptically.

"You have no reason to be worried, Man of Iron. My mother Frigga is an accomplished sorceress, and healer," Thor says with a smile, taking a small step towards her.

Tony nods his head, but he still watches her like a hawk.

Frigga frowns, her delicate brows knitted together as she studies the scar on Hari's head. It knits together very slowly. "This mark," Frigga says softly, "is no normal scar."

Hari grimaces. "It sure isn't," she agrees, but doesn't offer more information.

Frigga is undeterred, says, "Sowilo symbolizes strength and success. It is no wonder you were able to contain the Aether by yourself." She steps away when she's done healing Hari, hands her a handkerchief to wipe away the blood.

Hari accepts it with a tight smile. Tony takes the handkerchief from her hands and he starts to wipe away the blood, using his fingers to lift her chin. She smiles softly at him. "I'm okay," she says quietly.

"You and I might have similar ideas of okay, and let me tell you, hun, that's not a good thing," he tells her, his lips quirked in a half-smile.

"Mother, you know what that was?" Thor asks.

"There are relics that pre-date the universe itself," Odin says. His one eye is trained on Hari, watching her warily. "When the Dark Elves still existed, the leader, Malekith, forged a weapon out of darkness called the Aether. The other relics appear as stones, known as the Infinity Stones, but the Aether is fluid, ever changing, and it seeks out host bodies, drawing strength from their life force."

"So, it was draining Jane's life force," Thor reasons. "If it had a host, why did it leave?"

"Because it sensed a stronger life force," Frigga says. She studies Hari, who shuffles a little under the weight of her gaze.

"That doesn't make sense," Tony says. "We were around Jane back on Earth, and it didn't try to," he waves the bloody handkerchief around, "change hosts."

"The Aether was dormant in Jane until she was grabbed, at which point it lashed out," Hari breathes, her eyes wide. "We caught the tail end of it on Earth, but just now we were here for the whole thing."

Odin nods brusquely. "Correct." He purses his lips. "The Aether in any host is bad, but in someone _Death-Touched_? Malekith himself would have been pleased at the destruction it would wrought."

Tony doesn't like the way he's looking at Hari, the way his upper lip curls in disgust. "So how do we destroy it?" He ignores the way Odin scoffs, continues, "If this is so dangerous, let's just get rid of it. Where's your garbage disposal?"

"Impossible," Odin says. "These are powerful relics from across the universe, not some paltry mortal trinkets. My father, Bor, was only able to hide the Aether after the war with the Dark Elves. At most, we've been able to contain the relics."

"I hate to point out logical fallacies, but did you not also say that it was impossible to seal this thing without a proper container? If Hari managed to accomplish that, I'd say she has a damn good chance at destroying it." It's a lie, of course. He loves to point out logical fallacies, especially when they come from someone like Odin.

Thor gestures to Hari and Tony. "Father, please, hear him out. This is a matter of grave importance." He steps forward, his face pleading. "The fate of the universe is at stake."

Frigga places a hand on Odin's arm. "We will listen, of course," she says firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

Odin purses his lips, but he doesn't disagree with his wife.

Hari clears her throat. "We have reason to believe that Loki did not attack Earth of his own recognizance," she says. "Specifically, we believe he was under Thanos' orders. We'd like to speak to him and—"

"That is out of the question," Odin interrupts. "Loki is imprisoned."

"Do prisoners not get visitors here on Asgard? Is that just an Earth thing?" Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, we know that you interrogated him, but that's not a guarantee that you asked the right questions. Like, oh, I don't know, where did Loki get the army that attacked Earth? Who did the army belong to? And, most importantly, why were they wanting to attack Earth? There's gotta be a specific reason."

"Your people would not be privy to this, but many races pillage other worlds," Odin says dryly. "Midgard is not special in that regard."

"Father, please, Loki may be innocent," Thor pleads. "If we could just speak to him—"

Odin holds up a hand. "Loki is many things, but innocent is not one of them."

"Look, we're not denying that he committed crimes when he was on Earth," Hari says. "We're just saying that there is a reason behind it, and it's not just because he wanted to 'lead Earth as a god' or whatever bullshit he was spewing. Earth might not be as technologically advanced as any other planet out there, but we are by no means helpless. Attacking Earth seems especially stupid, unless it was planned with a specific reason in mind." She grabs the contained Aether, the rowan no longer smoking. "Tony says that Loki's first act arriving on Earth was to steal the Tesseract, and that he was in possession of a scepter that controlled minds. Are these also relics?"

Tony looks at her, his own eyes widening in realization. He licks his dry lips, turns to look at Odin. "They are, aren't they?"

Odin looks impressed against his will. "They are," he confirms. "Do you see, now, why I cannot let you talk to Loki? He may have the locations of the other Infinity Stones, and that information is dangerous in the wrong hands."

"Which is why we need to speak to him," Hari stresses. "We know Thanos is looking to wipe out half the universe as a tribute to Death, okay? We need to find these Infinity Stones, and we need to destroy them. Loki is our best chance at doing that."

Odin is shaking his head. "These Stones have more value intact rather than destroyed."

"Yeah, in Thanos' hands!" Tony argues, throwing his hands in the air. "We need to get rid of them before they're used against us!"

Odin waves him off. "Asgard is more than capable of protecting the Stones," he says. "Your assistance with the Aether is not invaluable, but the safest place for it is here, inside my vault." He holds his hand out expectantly.

Tony eyes it incredulously. "Okay, so you are clearly more senile than you look," he says slowly, "but we're not handing this thing to you. Sorry, but you're basically saying the safest hands are your own, and that is stupidly, dangerously _arrogant_. And, uh, I've got a monopoly on that market, buddy, so go find your own niche."

Thor looks at his father, anger and disappointment and bitterness written on his face. "Is Loki to rot in prison because he may or may not have the location of these... these Infinity Stones? My brother deserves better than this!"

"This is bigger than your brother!" Odin says sharply, shaking his head. "I cannot overlook what his actions have wrought, regardless of whether or not he was the mastermind behind it all! The nine realms erupted into _chaos_ because of Loki! As King of those nine realms, that cannot go unpunished! And when you are King, you will be in this same position, and when you have to make these decisions, then you will understand."

Thor shakes his head angrily. "Would you let me rot in prison, father?" he demands. "Or would you have tried to teach me to be better, as you did when you first send me to Earth? Why doesn't Loki deserve the same treatment? Is it because he is not your own flesh and blood?"

There's a sharp slap as Odin's hand meets Thor's face, but the God of Thunder doesn't move. He doesn't even look shocked, only bitterly disappointed and disgusted. Frigga gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. She steps towards Thor, but Odin pulls her back, his only visible eye stormy, his mouth twisted in an enraged snarl.

"I took him in," Odin begins.

"And you've held that over him ever since," Thor interrupts. His voice is quiet, the calm before the storm. "We were never treated the same, and because I was treated better, I never questioned it. But even when we were growing up, you were always wary of Loki, like you were expecting him to mess up, or turn into a monster. If we committed the same crime, I would receive a slap on the wrist, and he would be punished harshly."

"You were his Dudley," Hari breathes. She stares at Thor with wide eyes.

Tony swallows thickly. "Let's, uh, let's all take a deep breath and calm down," he says, and he almost wants to laugh because he never thought he'd have to be the reasonable adult in any situation. "Gandalf, keep your hands to yourself or I'll break them, King or no King."

The air is tense, awkward, but Thor eventually takes a few steps backwards, stewing in his anger and regret.

"My suspicions of Loki were not undue," Odin says after a few moments of silence. "But, contrary to your beliefs, it was not because of his parentage that I grew suspicious of Loki."

"What are you talking about?" Thor asks tiredly.

Odin purses his lips. "When I made the decision to take in Loki, it was because I pitied him," he says. "He was a small thing, abandoned during the war, but he was also a fighter, Asgardian in spirit at the very least. And I thought it would be good for you to grow up with a brother." He sighs, looking older and wearier now. "But as he grew up, he started to bear a striking resemblance to..."

"To...?" Thor crosses his arms and stares at his father, hard and unflinching.

"To the last Asgardian that was Death-Touched," Odin admits with a small grimace.

"That was thousands of years ago," Thor points out.

"You don't understand!" Odin hisses. "The last time an Asgardian was Death-Touched, it drove her mad! She was going to stop at nothing until the universe was brought to its knees and only death remained." He waves his hand agitatedly at Tony and Hari. "That's what awaits these two! Madness that has the ability to put an end to everything! It's what drove Hela, it's what drives Thanos, and it's what will drive these two, mark my words."

Thor shakes his head in confusion. "Did you know Hela?" he asks.

Odin freezes, and then he turns away in a violent jerk.

It's Frigga that answers, grief and longing clear in her voice.

"Hela is our firstborn," she says thickly. "She's your older sister."


	22. don't need another perfect lie

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World**  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

"And I thought my family had problems," Tony whispers in her ear.

Hari's head ping-pongs between Thor and his parents. The God of Thunder looks stricken, betrayed, and Hari pities him. She's been in his shoes before, has felt the sharp sting of betrayal so keenly. She'd stumbled out of Dumbledore's pensieve with that same look on her face, reeling from the revelation that she wasn't meant to survive the endgame.

It was there, in the cold, empty Headmaster's office that Hari almost succumbed to despair.

She'd wanted to curse the unfairness of it all, had wanted to let loose the scream that had built in her chest until her throat tore.

Most of her life had been fighting, and one of the things that had kept her going was the thought of a tomorrow without Voldemort looming over her shoulder.

If she was never meant to live into adulthood, what was the point?

Grief was heavy in her heart, but even so, she didn't have it in herself to weep. Her world was tumbling down, and she wanted to sit on the stone floor until the cold seeped into her bones and numbed her, but she couldn't. The castle was practically vibrating from the furious onslaught outside, and as Hari looked out the window at the students battling Death Eaters in the courtyard, a sense of calm came over her.

Her life may end, but those people down there? They could have a chance at a better future.

And as she thought of Hermione, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, all of the friends she'd made in her tenure at Hogwarts, she'd decided that maybe dying in this world, dying for them, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

 _"You raised Lily's daughter like a pig for slaughter!"_

That was, perhaps, the part of the memory that had nearly succeeded in breaking her.

Snape, the man that had belittled her, taunted her, threw her father's memory in her face over and over, he understood. He'd looked at Dumbledore with almost a bigger sense of betrayal than she had.

Funny, how long it took for Hari to see Dumbledore's true face.

He hadn't cared about Hari, an orphaned girl desperate for a family and some sense of belonging in the world who wanted nothing more than to be loved.

He just needed her to survive long enough to die at the right time.

She hadn't seen it coming.

 _Why hadn't she seen it coming?_

Deep down, she knew it was because after the years of neglect and abuse she'd endured from her relatives, she was starving for attention, like a dog begging for scraps.

And Dumbledore, a war veteran who knew Voldemort's return was inevitable, who knew that she would be the Wizarding world's only hope this time, who had to take up the mantle as leader of the resistance once more, knew this.

He knew she was treated little better than a house elf.

He knew she never considered Number 4 Privet Drive as her home.

He knew she wanted, more than anything, someone that cared for her.

He knew, and so he'd presented himself as a kind-hearted old man, a grandfatherly figure, and she bought it hook, line, and sinker.

"Where is she?" Thor demands.

Odin purses his lips and shakes his head. "You don't _understand_ ," he says. "When we discovered she was Death-Touched, we thought it to be a blessing at first. With Hela on our side, our enemies faltered, crumbled, and we were unstoppable. Soon, the Nine Realms were kneeling at our feet, but it wasn't enough for her. She had to be stopped, or she would have killed everything in her path."

"This makes no sense," Thor cries. "What happened to ruling the Nine Realms through peaceful methods?"

"History is written by the victors, Thor," Tony says softly. He looks at him with sympathy. "Wars are seldom won solely through peaceful methods."

Odin's lips twist. "Hela ensured that the Nine Realms knelt to us," he admits. "But after that, she just… she wouldn't stop. She _couldn't_. I had no other choice."

Odin doesn't look so superior anymore; rather, he stares at Thor, almost beseeching, wanting his son to understand his actions.

Hari has never been in the business of keeping her mouth shut, and before she knows it, she loudly says, "Don't blame Death for your shitty parenting."

Tony seems to choke on his own saliva, or maybe he's choking down a laugh, but Hari gets the attention of everyone in the room. Thor looks surprised, his brows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Frigga's lips are thin, disapproving, but she doesn't look as upset as she should considering Hari just called her husband out on his bullshit.

Odin also doesn't look surprised. Rather, he seems irritated, disbelieving, and Hari knows it's been a long time since anyone has dared speak to him in such a manner. "Excuse me?" Odin demands.

Hari stands her ground, looks at Odin with her shoulders squared, her feet planted, her head high, the very picture of defiance. "Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but here are the takeaways I got from your little speech. Your daughter Hela presented as being Death-Touched. You decided that this was a blessing, a sign of your superiority, maybe even your right to rule as many realms as you could. You probably trained her to ensure that she would lead Asgard to victory and secure your place as the King of the Nine Realms. Then, there was a point in which you decided that you were done with conquering.

"Maybe you grew a conscious. Maybe you realized that any conquered peoples would eventually fight back if you didn't change your methods. Maybe you were just tired of the fighting and the bloodshed. Regardless, you do a complete one-eighty, and suddenly _Hela_ is in the wrong for wanting to continue the pillaging that she was trained for. Suddenly, it's _Hela_ being Death-Touched that is a problem. Suddenly, _Hela_ is your _scapegoat_. You take her down, erase her from history, and then pretend like you were this wonderful, benevolent ruler all along. Am I right?"

If the silence was unsettling before, it's suffocating now. She'd hit the nail on the head, and they all know it.

Because Hari doesn't know Odin personally, but she knows men like him. Rita Skeeter made sure the world knew about Dumbledore's dirty beginnings, how he'd been on Grindelwald's side before he had his own change of heart after the death of his sister, how he'd spent the rest of his life trying to atone for his past.

Despite his manipulations, his plans had fallen perfectly into place, piece by agonizing piece, and the war was won. The world would not be terrorized by the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort any longer.

Hari hates how despite the awful childhood, despite the worst parts of her years at Hogwarts, despite watching the memory and realizing that she was only a means to an end, she still can't hate Dumbledore.

She should, and Merlin knows she's tried, but in the end, hating him was more exhausting than letting everything go.

"I have never been benevolent," Odin says finally. He looks a little more worn now, a little withered. "Hela didn't want to stop. She thought we should subjugate all, that everyone else was beneath us. But leaving nothing but death in our wake was not sustainable. Frigga tried to make her see reason, but she refused, said it would be disrespectful to Death." He shakes his head. "We sent the Valkyrie to subdue her, and she slaughtered them."

"Where is she?" Thor repeats, quieter this time. He refuses to look at his father, keeps his gaze fixed on a stone behind Odin.

"She's sealed away," Frigga says softly. She steps forward to cup Thor's cheek, and she whispers, "She would have destroyed everything, Thor. I had no choice but to seal her, for the good of Asgard."

He pulls away from her, pointedly doesn't look her in the eyes, and with a shaky breath, Frigga falls back to stand beside her husband, sad but standing tall.

"I have made mistakes," Odin says. He sighs, and for the first time since they started talking, he sounds regretful, remorseful. "It was my ambition that drove Hela to madness. I placed much on her shoulders before she was ready, and by the time I'd realized my folly, it was too late. I tried to do better by you, and I thought taking Loki into our home would help me atone for past actions, and instead I have failed you both. I'm… sorry."

"You owe Loki a bigger apology than me," Thor says. "My brother is rotting in a cell, and he shouldn't be."

Odin purses his lips. "Do you have any proof that he wasn't responsible for his actions?" he asks, finally relenting.

Tony immediately steps forward. "Let us talk to him, see if Thanos had anything to do with the attack on Earth."

"Loki has a silver tongue," Odin points out, unimpressed. "How can we be sure that he is speaking the truth and not trying to save his own skin?"

"Oh, I can answer that one!" Hari straightens up and starts digging in her pockets. She pulls out a slim vial triumphantly, presents it with a flourish. "This is Veritaserum, the strongest truth potion on Earth."

Tony lets out a small whistle. "You just carry that around with you?"

"Constant vigilance!" Hari retorts. "Alastor Moody was a paranoid son of a bitch, but he was one of the best Aurors that ever worked for the Ministry for a bloody reason."

"Will this work?" Thor eyes it curiously.

Hari shakes the vial. "We can test it on you," she says seriously. "I don't know if the dosage is the same given that you likely have different physiology than us mortals, but it's worth a shot. If it doesn't work, I do have another possible option we can explore, but in all honesty, I would really rather not go that route."

If the Veritaserum doesn't work, the only other option she can think of is to have an Unbreakable Vow with Loki. It's not something she would want to do, considering how precise and specific the wording has to be to avoid unpleasant accidents, and she'd rather not _especially_ if Loki is as much a victim in this as the citizens of New York City had been, but even she has to concede that it might be necessary. Still, if she can get away with not doing it at all, she will.

"I am willing," Thor says earnestly. He extends a hand out, reaching for the potion.

Hari jerks her hand back. "The dosage for us mortals is two to three drops on the tongue," she says. "If the dosage is the same for you, then drinking this entire vial may prove poisonous, and I sincerely doubt accidentally killing yourself is going to help your brother."

Thor's cheeks turn a little pink, and he lets out a few awkward chuckles. "That is… an astute assumption," he murmurs.

Hari turns to Odin, who watches the proceedings without complaint. He murmurs something softly to Frigga, who nods her head, looking happier than Hari's seen her so far. The moment between the King and Queen of Asgard turns intimate briefly, with Frigga cupping Odin's face, her eyes wet but happy, and their foreheads touch, more whispered words shared between them.

Hari averts her gaze, feeling very much like an intruder. The contained Aether vibrates in her hand, the wood becoming warm again. She stares at it hard, gripping it tightly enough that her knuckles turn white. When she looks up, Frigga is gone, and Odin is staring at the rowan in her hand, his lips pursed.

"It would be safe here," he says lightly.

Hari hides it from view. "For how long?" she asks. "How long will it stay safe?"

"Asgard has been impenetrable for quite some time."

Hari shrugs. "Forgive me, but I've seen far too many supposedly impenetrable locations being broken into. I understand wanting to believe that Asgard is different, but you need to be reasonable." After all, robbing Gringotts was supposed to be impossible, and yet she'd accomplished that. The thing about the belief in a place being impenetrable is that it breeds arrogance, which breeds complacency, and if the enemy is half as smart as Tony, _impenetrable_ is merely a challenge waiting to be accepted.

Odin stares at her, absorbing her words. He's actually listening this time, which is a surprise, but she's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thus far, attempts to destroy the Infinity Stones have been wildly unsuccessful."

"How many people have actually tried?" Tony asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Enough," Odin says, his tone snarky and slightly annoyed. "None have succeeded."

"Then it shouldn't hurt if Hari gives it a shot?" Tony gestures to her, his media smile fixed onto his perfect face.

His faith in her is humbling, makes her feel warm and soft. He believes that she can destroy the Aether, and this belief isn't powered by a prophecy. It isn't powered by her miraculous survival as a toddler.

He's seen what she's capable of with his own two eyes. Tony is a logical man, one with strong principles and a foundation in science, and him placing his faith in her, in her abilities, makes her want to prove him right, makes her want to live up to his expectations.

"What if the Infinity Stones are the only way to defeat Thanos?" Odin counters. There's a calculating twinkle in his eye, reminiscent of Dumbledore.

Hari doesn't like it.

"These Infinity Stones might help us defeat Thanos," Tony concedes. "But, likewise, it could be what helps _him_ defeat _us_. Keeping them around is more of a liability than it is helpful."

Odin considers this, then says, "And what makes you so sure Thanos is after the Infinity Stones?" His voice is low, silky. That damn twinkle in his eye only grows stronger, like he knows something that they don't.

"We don't know for sure," Hari admits. "But let's look at the facts. Loki has a mysterious benefactor that provides him with an army to conquer Earth. Has he ever had a desire to conquer other planets?"

"No," Thor says firmly. He falters a little, then says, "Well, he's wanted to be King of Asgard, but never before has he ever claimed to want to be King of other planets."

"Okay, so he doesn't take after Step-Daddy Dearest in terms of conquering," Hari says, and if she lets slip a bit of snark, well, it's worth it when Odin's twinkle dims and he fixes her with a heavy disapproving stare. "He was provided with the mind-controlling scepter, which we can now safely assume held an Infinity Stone in it, and his first action upon arriving was to steal the Tesseract, which, not surprisingly, _also_ holds an Infinity Stone inside. I'm sensing a pattern here."

"And if he was working for Thanos, willing or not," Tony says, finishing Hari's assessment, "then that means the Infinity Stones are very important. Maybe he just needed the both of them to open that portal, but I'm willing to bet that an interplanetary conqueror such as Thanos will have far grander plans for such powerful relics. I only have experience with what the Tesseract can do, but can you imagine the type of power the rest are capable of? And can you imagine how that could shorten the amount of time needed to destroy half the universe? Sure, he could go planet-to-planet systematically wiping out half the population, but that would take _forever_ , and in my experience, nobody in their right mind would wait that long for a suitor."

Odin makes a small thoughtful noise. "So, you would rather foolishly attempt to destroy these relics instead of using them yourself?" He stares at them both, accusing and disbelieving.

"These Infinity Stones seem like they're more trouble than they're worth," Tony repeats, frustrated. He agitatedly waves a hand between him and Hari. "Could the stones be helpful? Maybe. That doesn't change the fact that Thanos getting his hands on them could potentially mean greater destruction at a quicker rate!"

"And what makes you think you can handle him alone? Thanos has successfully killed off quite a few planets already," Odin points out.

"You're missing the point," Tony says, glaring at the King. "We are by no means invincible, but damn it, we already have the beginnings of a great team, and that's just with a few of us. We are doing everything we can in the time that we have to prepare, and that means alerting Earth's own magical communities and potentially gaining allies from other planets."

"Why would any planet be willing to ally with one as simple as Midgard?"

"Because it's not just Earth at stake," Hari says. "Thanos isn't gunning for us alone. It's in the universe's best interests to ensure his permanent defeat."

"And maybe he does come to Earth, and maybe it is too much for us," Tony says. His face is hard, stony. "But it's like I told your son. If we can't protect the Earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it."

Odin studies them, his head cocked a little to the side. His gaze is inquisitive, and it's almost like he's staring at more than just them. Hari feels like she's under a microscope, like she's being sized up and judged.

"How did you become Death-Touched?" Odin asks, his voice oddly quiet and calm.

Tony freezes beside her, and she reaches down to pat his hand reassuringly.

"We died so others could live," she says simply.

Thor looks at Tony, and his eyes widen in realization. "When you went through the portal," he whispers. "We thought you dead, but then you awoke. I... I didn't even think..."

"My ambition may have been what drove Hela," Odin says, "but only at first. She refused to stop because she's the Goddess of Death."

"Thor is the God of Thunder, yet I don't see him bringing about thunder storms everywhere he goes," Hary points out.

Thor blinks and then scowls thoughtfully, as if such a thing had never before crossed his mind.

"And if you fall to madness?" Odin inquires silkily. "What then? Frigga was able to seal Hela away, but only barely. As it is, she's sealed away successfully by tying the spell directly to my life force. How shall we take care of the two of you should you decide to spread death and mayhem wherever you go?"

"If us going mad is such a great concern," Hari says strongly, "all the more reason to destroy these stones."

She doesn't know how they're going to do it, but she knows that they have to. Her gut is telling her that destroying these stones is the key to saving the universe, and her gut has never let her down before. It's a little daunting because it's supposedly never been done before, but if she could destroy Horcruxes—

Hari stiffens, her eyes widening.

 _"Your help will be invaluable. After all, you've gone on a similar quest and came out the victor."_

Why would Death tell her that unless it meant something?

Fiendfyre and Basilisk venom had successfully destroyed Horcruxes before.

Her heart is a wild tattoo in her chest, beating ferociously, and she's overcome with a mix of anxiety and excitement, her hands gripping tightly on the contained Aether, wanting more than anything for Gryffindor's damn sword to come to her aid once more, wants to destroy the Aether before it can do more harm.

She's not sure who is more surprised when a column of fire bursts into existence, her or Tony or the Asgardians.

Mjolnir is in Thor's hand, Tony is yanking her behind him, and even Odin is on guard, pulling a sword out of its scabbard, but Hari's breath catches in her throat when she hears the most beautiful melody, a gentle trilling that instantly calms the tension in the room.

Just as he had so many years ago, Fawkes flies to her, dropping the Sorting Hat at her feet. He hasn't been seen since Dumbledore's passing, and he continues to sing, lifting the spirits of everyone in the room.

"Fawkes," she cries, smiling wildly. She steps out from behind Tony. "It's so good to see you again."

"That's a bird," Tony says blankly.

"Fawkes is a phoenix," Hari says, bending down to grab the Sorting Hat. "He used to be my old Headmaster's companion." She holds out an arm, and Fawkes lands on it, nuzzling her hair with a soft coo. "I haven't seen him in years."

Fawkes trills again, and then he moves from her arm to perch carefully on Tony's head. Tony lets out a strangled noise of surprise before he mimics her movements, holding out an arm for Fawkes to move to. The phoenix does so imperiously, trilling and cooing at Tony.

Hari stares at the Sorting Hat, and she swallows thickly, reaching into it. She lets out a cry of triumph when she grasps the ornate handle to the Sword of Gryffindor, remembering that the sword always appears whenever a true Gyrffindor has need of it.

"You're going to want to stand back," she says as she pulls the sword out of the hat.

She places the contained Aether on the floor, determination flowing in her veins, and with a mighty swing, she brings the sword down, hard, on the block of wood.

There's an awful, high pitched screeching, the overwhelming stench of sulfur, and the room heats up, just before there's an explosion that knocks everyone off their feet. Her ears are rining, and her body is a little sore, but Hari stands up, a little shaky at first.

The scorch marks on the ground are deep, glowing a burning red.

The block of rowan is cracked, an empty smoking husk.

She did it.

The Aether is destroyed.


	23. the love you are to me

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World**  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

The look of shock on Odin's face is one that Tony will treasure for the rest of time. Hari stands there, her chest heaving as she breathes, her cheeks flushed but her lips stretched wide in victory, beautiful and triumphant, and Odin stares at her, his one visible eye wide and unsure. He can understand the feeling; Hari's presence in his life has certainly shaken a few of his own world views.

"So… that happened," he says, effectively breaking the shocked silence that had enveloped the room.

"That shouldn't… have been possible…" Odin furrows his brows.

"Maybe nobody strong enough ever tried?" Tony nearly recoils at the dark, furious look the King of Asgard throws his way, and he remembers too late that the King before him, Odin's very own father, had been unable to destroy the Aether, and he just unwittingly called him weak. In front of Odin. Oops.

"Perhaps we just lacked the proper tools," Thor says, gesturing at the Sword of Gryffindor. The silver blade gleams brightly, almost twinkling, and Tony's eyes catch the ruby in the handle, shimmering just a bit too red. It twinkles, almost, and for a second, Tony is transfixed, can think of nothing but that beautiful red, not unlike his armor. The effect is lost when he blinks; the ruby is not necessarily dull, but it lacks some of its luster, ordinary.

He must be imagining things.

"When can we speak to Loki?" Hari asks. She still sounds a little out of breath, a little tired, and nobody could blame her for it. Tony certainly didn't.

Odin snaps his attention away from Tony. His lips press together firmly. "Tonight," he says after a few long moments. He sounds reluctant, but he doesn't renege on their agreement, so Tony ignores it.

Hari looks like she wants to argue, but she changes her mind at the last minute.

There's a weird silence that descends upon them. Thor looks at Hari, impressed. Even if Hari had used magic to destroy the Aether, which Tony knows he isn't terribly fond of, it was still destroyed, and if there's one thing that impresses Thor, it's strength. Hari isn't exactly lacking in that department.

Tony himself is impressed. He's known what magic could do, has seen a bit of it during his impromptu visit to Diagon Alley, but seeing it used to destroy something as powerful as an Infinity Stone puts things into perspective. The magic he's seen before seemed pathetic in comparison, if instantly teleporting across the world in a matter of moments could be pathetic at all.

"I shall show you to your rooms," Thor says. He spares his father a passing glance, almost as if he's waiting for him to argue against it, but then he stubbornly looks away, forcing a smile.

"We just need one," Tony says. He snakes an arm around Hari's waist when Thor only blinks at him in confusion.

"Of course, my apologies." Thor lets out a booming laugh, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

Fawkes offers one last trill, nuzzling Hari's head, and then disappears in a column of fire. The peaceful feeling that envelopes Tony is strange, and he's not completely sure if he's okay with the bird upping his levels of dopamine.

"Where's your chicken going?" he asks Hari.

She huffs out a small laugh. "He would take exception to you calling him that," she says cheerfully, not at all offended. "He'll show up again if I need him. Fawkes does what Fawkes wants."

Tony cocks an eyebrow but then shrugs his shoulders. Not his crack-bird, not his business. "Are you going to give us the grand tour of Asgard?"

Thor visibly perks up, a bright smile stretched across his lips. He reminds Tony of a puppy. "Of course! I will be as apt a host to you whilst you are on Asgard as you have been for me on Midgard." He frowns for a second. "I'm afraid we don't have pizza. Or hot dogs. Or Pop-Tarts."

Tony claps him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, big man." He glances at Hari and catches sight of the yawn that she tries to hide. "Tell you what; let's take that tour in a couple of hours after the lady's rested."

"I'm fine," Hari says, waving Tony's concerns off.

"Yeah, not to disprove you or anything, but I'm pretty sure there's a rule about taking a nap after accomplishing an impossible feat."

Oh, the irony. This entire experience has been rather eye-opening for him. Tony isn't the type to take anything easy, least of all after an experience such as this one. Especially not since he knows what's out there, not since Thor's confirmed his worst fears. He knew something was coming and now he knows what that something is.

Thanos.

Part of him itches, craves, _aches_ to get some work done, to do something to guarantee their collective survival. He hates feeling useless, like he isn't doing anything productive with his time. That used to include the basic necessities of life, like sleeping, eating, bathing. Tony knows it's a product of his father's rigid expectations. A lifetime later and he still can't shake the overwhelming drive to try to meet them, regardless of his own wellbeing.

It's something that has constantly bothered the people closest to him. Pepper, Rhodey, even JARVIS. And he's never quite been able to comprehend their concern, his mind always concerned with continuing his work, with getting things done. What does it matter if he hadn't eaten in the last fifteen hours and only got one hour of sleep? There's still work to be done, isn't there? No, he won't take a few minutes to go rest.

He'll rest when he's dead.

Tony absolutely isn't the type to believe in things like cosmic interference, and yet, it almost feels like karma is catching up to him. For so long, despite the pleads of people that cared for him to take it easy, to relax, to not work himself to death, he never quite understood. Now that Hari is in his life and has proven to be a giant trouble magnet, he gets it.

He owes Rhodey and Pepper huge apologies.

"No, it isn't!" Hari snorts.

"It is now. I'm making it a permanent rule. Sorry, no take-backsies." Tony turns to Thor again, who watches them with a befuddled but pleased smile. "Where's that room at?"

Odin's gaze burns into their backs as they leave.

Thor leads them down long and winding hallways, pointing out impressive statues, the gardens, architecture, his booming baritone detailing everything they see. They certainly draw a crowd, but Tony and Hari are both used to being pointed at and whispered about, and being the Prince of Asgard has definitely left Thor immune to this treatment as well.

Still, it's a relief when they're finally led to their room.

"I shall come retrieve you when it is time to eat," Thor informs them.

"Thanks, Point Break."

Thor smiles, takes a bow, and then leaves them at the door.

Their room is rather large, with beautiful, violent paintings decorating the walls, depicting bloody victorious battles in Asgardian history, a large exceptionally comfortable bed with a canopy in the center nestled between two bedside tables, huge windows that are nearly floor to ceiling, a thick, plush rug on the floor that's almost orgasmic to step on. Tony seriously considers stealing it when it's time to go back to Earth.

"I wasn't so tired before, but I'm really feeling drained now," Hari says. She doesn't bother stifling the next yawn that splits her mouth open.

"Well, you probably used up a lot of magic being a badass earlier," Tony points out. He starts pulling off his clothes until he's only in his boxers. When Hari yawns again, he helps her pull off her own clothes.

"I can take care of myself," she says even though she doesn't try to stop him. She puts her wand on the bedside table closest to her.

"You don't always have to." Rhodey and Pepper would be so proud of him for finally learning this lesson.

Hari smiles. She leans up a little to kiss him. It's short and sweet, nothing more than a brush of lips, but Tony finds himself settling down, relaxing, letting go of tension that he wasn't aware he had.

It makes sense, of course. Now that the adrenaline is gone, reality is starting to kick in. Things could have gone really wrong today. What if she hadn't been able to contain the Aether? What if her attempt at destroying the Aether led to her being seriously hurt or worse?

He doesn't want to think about it.

They crawl into that huge bed together, settling underneath the covers.

Hari is the first to fall asleep. She burrows into his side, her head resting on his chest, an arm and a leg thrown over him, securing him to his spot next to her. It's adorable, her case of octopus-arms, and he revels in this close proximity, in the little grunt that escapes her as she dreams.

Her face is calm in sleep, utterly relaxed. It's so different from the fierce expression she had earlier as she wielded the silver sword. She was a warrior then, relentless and singularly focused on destroying the Aether.

Tony pulls her even closer towards him. Her deep, even breaths eventually lull him to sleep.

He doesn't know how long he's sleeping before he's disturbed by a loud explosion. The room shakes violently, the paintings crashing to the floor. Before he can even begin to ponder what the fuck is going on, something bursts through the wall next to Hari's side of the bed.

No, not something.

Some _one_.

Thanos is uglier in real life, his purple skin rough and scarred. His thick, bulging muscles are covered in sleek metal armor, not a single scratch or dent on it, gleaming maliciously in the blue glow of the Tesseract. He moves ridiculously fast for someone so large, dragging Hari out of bed with one meaty hand wrapped around her delicate neck.

She lets out a startled, choking noise, and her hands desperately grab at Thanos', kicking her legs out as he holds her aloft.

The suitcase suit is right there, so close. If he could reach it, he could save her.

"Don't even think about it, Stark," Thanos says, his deep voice making the hairs on Tony's arms stand on end. "One move towards that and I crush her windpipe."

Tony freezes, his eyes meeting Hari's. Her face is turning an alarming shade of red as she chokes, gasping for breath, tears leaking out of her eyes, her fingertips turning white. "Let her go," he says. His voice is surprisingly calm, steady in a way he doesn't feel.

Thanos lets out a soft chuckle. "You humans are so delicate," he muses. "It's funny, how easily I could kill the both of you right now. And yet, you are the reason my army has suffered a devastating loss." His eyes glitter darkly. "And she is the reason one of my stones is gone."

Tony swallows thickly. There's a dark promise of retribution in his voice, and Tony's heart tries to beat out of his chest. He takes a small step forward, stopping immediately when Thanos lifts Hari even higher. "Please, don't."

Thanos doesn't say anything, but he does lower Hari enough that he can loosen his grip, just enough that she can wheeze in a few breathes, but not enough that she can break free. He glances at the wand on the bedside table, and he grabs it. He inspects it curiously, rolling it between his fingers.

And then he closes his fist around it, snapping the wood in two pieces.

Hari lets out a cry as if in pain, a broken, shattered sound that sends chills down Tony's spine.

"How your people managed to trick Death is beyond me." There's a sneer on Thanos' face, a disgusted curl of his lip that exposes sharp off-white teeth. "As if humans are worthy of the title Master of Death."

Hari glares at the purple titan, her emerald eyes clouded over with rage and hatred. "Fuck you," she spits.

Thanos' hand tightens around her throat again. "I will free Death from your wretched hold," he promises. "Your broken, bleeding bodies and the souls of millions will be a fine tribute."

"We'll... stop... you..." Hari chokes out.

There's a long, tense moment of silence before Thanos smiles. "No, you won't."

It's disgustingly easy how Thanos snaps Hari's neck. Tony is so shocked that he doesn't really notice at first; he heard the loud crunch of bones breaking, he saw her drop in a graceless heap, but the truth of it doesn't sink in, not until Thanos directs his chilling smile to Tony.

A wild, vicious scream rips out of Tony's throat. He leaps at the Mad Titan, his armor miraculously crawling over his skin. He uses everything in his arsenal to attack Thanos, to make him hurt, driving his fist into the hulking alien over and over until his arm goes numb, and then he pushes himself further.

His eyes burn, and hot tears trickle out of his eyes.

Thanos laughs as every blow that Tony delivers fails to knock him off his feet, fails to do any kind of substantial damage. "I'm beginning to think tales of the Merchant of Death have been greatly exaggerated," he taunts. "Is this your first time losing someone close to you?"

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Tony bellows.

"She might be alive if you were strong enough to take me." Thanos effortlessly catches Tony's fist, his meaty hand crushing the metal. "But you're not. You're nothing more than a self-made hero with absolutely nothing special about you, utterly human with all of your race's failings. If she couldn't beat me, what makes you think _you_ can?"

Tony yells in pain as the metal of his gauntlet squeezes his hand. Agony dances up his arm, but he pushes through it. He can't stop. He won't.

"To what end do you fight?" Thanos muses. "Destiny arrives all the same." With a vicious twist of the arm, Thanos forces Tony to his knees. He rips off the faceplate, and he laughs at the tears trickling down Tony's face. "You think you know pain? I will make you long for something as _sweet_ as pain."

"Tony?"

His eyes shoot over to Hari's crumpled body, and he sucks in a ragged breath when he realizes she's looking at him. Her head is bent at an awkward angle, and her eyes have that glossy, lost look, but they're very much awake, staring at him with an intensity that frightens him.

"Tony?"

Thanos viciously yanks his arm; there's an awful burning sensation when he hears a loud snap. Tony shrieks as the pain sharpens—

"Tony, wake up!"

—and he can't stop shrieking, not when his body throbs and aches, not when he's staring at the still, cooling body of the love of his life—

"Come on, Tony, snap out of it!"

Tony sits up with harsh, broken gasps. His entire body is drenched in sweat, and no matter how hard he pants, he can't seem to actually breathe. He's trembling so hard that the bed practically vibrates.

There's a hand on his arm, and he nearly falls out of bed trying to get away from the touch, so sure that Thanos is still there.

"You're in Asgard, in a room in the royal wing. We were led here by Thor after our little pow-wow with his father. There's still light outside so we must not have slept for very long. Soon, we're going to go eat and then Thor promised to show us around Asgard. I gotta tell you, he kind of reminds me of a very large, overly happy golden retriever."

The talking helps calm the rapid tattoo that is Tony's heart, and after a few more moments, he's finally able to focus on his surroundings. Sure enough, he's still in bed. There's no Thanos-shaped hole in the wall, the paintings are still hung up, and, more importantly, Hari is staring at him with concern shining in those big eyes of hers.

She's _alive_.

"I don't think your dreams have been that bad in a while," she says softly.

Tony nearly launches himself at her. He puts his ear to her chest, just to be sure because, fuck, he heard her fucking neck snap, but there's the soothing _ba-bump_ of her heart, and he lets out a shaky sigh of relief, happy and thankful beyond measure.

He doesn't realize he's crying until she gently wipes away his tears with her thumb. "I..." He breaks off with a shudder. _I love you_ , he wants to say, but the words stay on the tip of his tongue, and he finds that he can't say it.

"It's okay," Hari whispers. She runs her hands through his hair, and he nearly collapses onto her. "It was just a dream."

It felt too real to be a dream, too terrifying to be anything but an omen for the future. But he doesn't say anything. Instead, Tony listens to her voice as she quietly soothes him. He wraps his arms around her and squeezes.

If his tight grip is uncomfortable, she doesn't say anything. They stay there for a long time in silence, just quietly soaking in each other's soothing presence. When he finally pulls away, he feels drained, like a rung-out towel, but a little better than when he first woke up.

"We need to question Loki," he says. His voice is a little raspy, slightly better than a croak. "We need to find out everything he knows about that purple bastard."

"We will."

"We're not going to lose to him," Tony says. He rests his forehead against Hari's.

Hari stares at him for a long moment, and then she reaches up to cup his face. "No, we're not."

He closes the distance between them. The kiss is hard, desperate and reassuring and full of everything that he wants to tell her even if he can't force the words out of his mouth. She kisses him back with equal ferocity, and Tony thinks maybe she heard him anyway.

* * *

A/N: Some of you didn't like the direction this story took last chapter. That's okay. I'm not going to have everybody agree with what I'm doing. However, I don't think it's too much to ask for you to be polite and respectful when you leave a review. Most of you have done this, and I thank you for it. But if you're just going to 'die laughing' at my hard work, you can fuck right off and go find yourself a story that is more suited to your tastes.

In defense of the direction I took: I am not merely pulling from Harry Potter canon or MCU canon. I have also pulled from comic book canon, and in the comic books, the Infinity Gems were destroyed. There were extenuating circumstances behind them, sure, but they were destroyed nonetheless. That means that no, it's not just another Infinity Stone that can destroy it. That being said, I feel like many people are underestimating the differences between MCU magic and Harry Potter magic. MCU magic can be taught to anyone; HP magic is innate and you must be born with it in order to learn it. They are _different_ , and I will be showing that accordingly.

And to those whose biggest complaints have been that it's 'impossible' to destroy an Infinity Stone, it was also 'impossible' to survive the Killing Curse. Was there an explanation for this? There sure was. When did we finally get this explanation? At the end of the series. So, maybe instead of jumping down my throat for writing what I want to write, I'd like for all current and future readers to keep something in mind:

1\. This story allows you to explore the minds of two characters out of the _numerous_ ones that Marvel and Harry Potter have to offer. Just two. You get information as the characters get them, and even then, it's limited information since they don't know everything. They are inherently unreliable narrators.

2\. This story is a work in progress. Yes, we're almost 80k in, but we still have quite a few movies to cover, and I'm by no means done adding my own content. Canon is a great skeleton to have, but I am in no way, shape, or form trying to directly copy those events and just plaster Hari into them. Sure, some things may be the same, but otherwise, expect changes. Some you will like, others you won't.

3\. This story taking a different path than what you want or expect doesn't mean my story is bad. It just means that it's not to your tastes. And that's okay. You can stop reading at any point in time. Not to say that I loathe constructive criticism, but rather, there is a way to go about giving that: **being polite and respectful, and not hiding behind anonymity where I can't respond to you directly**.

To everyone else who was polite and respectful, I do greatly appreciate the encouragement. My updates will not be as quick as they were previously because I do have more important obligations in my life, but I am still actively working on this story (and others).


	24. won't let nobody hurt you

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World**  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Tony has calmed down significantly since he woke up, but Hari isn't fooled. Having suffered from nightmares extensively herself, she knows that he's the furthest thing from okay right now. His eyes are bloodshot, and they keep darting over her body, his gaze not at all seductive or wanton, but it's like he expects her to disappear right in front of him.

Not to mention the way he's playing with her hand and wrist. Tony traces patterns over her flesh, but periodically he'll linger just a little too long on the inside of her wrist, checking her pulse, making sure she's alive.

She gets it.

Too many nights, even years after the war, she'd find herself waking up, gasping for air, a scream dying on her lips. For the most part, Draco would help her through it.

But sometimes, in the dark, he looked just _too much_ like his father. There had been a memorable incident when her incredible reaction time had her wand at his throat within seconds until the sleepy haze had left her vision.

She'd turned to her children, then. She'd rock them in their sleep, and soon enough their sweet scent would relax her until she drifted off.

"I could think of at least a thousand things I would rather do more," Tony says. He tries to smile, but it falls flat, still shaken up by his dream, and then he checks her pulse again, lingering.

Hari nods her head. "Okay." She doesn't push.

Tony seems startled by this. "That's it?" he asks. "You're not going to try to get me to talk?"

Hari burrows herself further at his side, making sure he's satisfied with the rhythmic pounding of her heart before moving her hand to his chest. She traces the patchwork of scars there.

"If you're anything like me," she says, "and we are _remarkably_ alike, forcing you to talk is like slapping a dragon in the face – not advisable."

Tony lets out a wheezing noise, and then he's laughing. It's a rich, deep belly laugh, the kind that aches after a while, and the corners of his eyes crinkle pleasantly. The dark shadows that clung to him, his demons, they're not gone, but rather they've receded, at least a bit.

"Please tell me you've never done that," he says when he finally calms down.

Hari grins. "I've never slapped a dragon in the face," she assures him.

Her tone gives her away, and Tony regards her with exasperated fondness. "See, the way you say that makes me think you've done other ill-advised things to dragons."

"You make that sound dirty."

Tony snorts. "You know what I mean."

Hari regards him for a moment before she sits up. "Let's go exploring," she says as she slips out of bed. Her clothes are in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Now?" Tony looks out the window, and he's surprised to see the sun beginning to sink along the horizon. "I didn't think we slept that long."

Hari shrugs on her clothes. "It's not time for dinner yet; Thor said he'd come get us. So, I'm thinking we should explore Asgard as clueless tourists." When he cocks an eyebrow, she says, "I'm pretty sure we're Asgard's first visitors from Earth, us and Jane! Let's go look around."

He smiles at her, soft and fond, and then he gets up and starts pulling on clothes, chuckling when she does a little victory dance.

The setting sun casts Asgard in a twinkling, golden light. Tall buildings and sculptures loom over them as they leave the castle, walking hand in hand. There aren't as many people milling about, but they still get their fair share of curious looks. Eventually they find a garden in full bloom, the floral scent perfuming the area. They sit at one of the benches and just relax, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the warm breeze against their faces.

"I used to have terrible nightmares," Hari says suddenly. She doesn't need to look to the side to know that she has Tony's attention. "Still do sometimes, actually. But when I was in Hogwarts, they were exceptionally bad. I woke up the entire tower with my screaming more than once. After the third time, I was politely taught how to cast silencing charms around my bed."

Tony frowns. "So, what, you just suffered in _silence_?"

Hari pats his hand. "I was used to it," she says. "Hermione tried to help and be there for me, but truthfully, I didn't know how to let her in," she confesses. She runs her fingers over his tanned skin. "Growing up… growing up at the Dursleys meant vulnerability was exploited. It's ridiculously hard to shake a lifetime of habits, and at fifteen, with Voldemort back and the war started again, it was just easier to push people away than to risk getting hurt. Or worse, risk them becoming targets."

Tony squeezes her hand. "Hari…" He pauses, at a loss for words.

She continues, "But that's not the point of all this." Hari turns to him. "What I'm trying to tell you is that I've been where you are. I've woken up from the worst dreams, the most visceral kinds of nightmares that still haunt me to this day. And I know that Ron and Hermione were just trying to help, but them badgering me to open up to them only made me pull away more." She shrugs. "I'm not saying that what I did was right, or that what they did was wrong. I just remember them asking me over and over to tell them what was going on in my head, and it just made me angry, and bitter, and scared. So, I'm not going to do that to you. When you're ready to talk, _if_ you even want to talk, I'll be here. But you do it at your own pace, okay?"

The silence that settles between them is contemplative, comfortable. Tony doesn't say anything for a long moment, opting to stare at the sky lit with hues of orange, pink, and purple.

"I can't," Tony says quietly. "Not yet. But… but I want to, eventually."

Hari smiles at him and brings his hand to her lips, kissing his palm. "At your pace," she repeats softly.

"You are… amazing," he breathes. Hari can feel her cheeks heating up, and she averts her gaze. She doesn't think she said anything particularly special. But Tony sits up a little straighter, as if a small weight was just lifted from his shoulders.

"It's really beautiful out here," Hari says.

"It is." Tony clears his throat. "Can I ask you a question?"

She looks at him and nods. "Of course. Ask anything you want."

"How did you know how to destroy the Aether?"

Hari grimaces. Reliving her hunt for the horcruxes is not something that she wants to do, but Tony deserves to know the truth. "It's a long story," she warns. She licks her lips and settles into the bench. "Voldemort was terrified of death," she says softly. "He spent years researching ways to beat death, and then he found it. They're called horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" Tony stares at her intently.

"Vile, black magic," she tells him. "It's the art of splitting your soul and storing the fragments in various objects."

"Soul magic," Tony breathes. "That… that doesn't sound good."

Hari smiles humorlessly. "Splitting your soul once is enough to damage a person. Voldemort did it seven times." She watches as Tony's eyes grow in horror. "That's how he was able to survive the night the Killing Curse rebounded off me. Before I could take him down for good, I needed to locate and destroy all his horcruxes. But not just anything can destroy a horcrux; no, only something _extremely_ powerful can do so. Fiendfyre, which is cursed fire, can destroy them."

"How does a sword compare to cursed fire?"

Hari smirks. "Normally it wouldn't, but that sword has very powerful goblin enchantments on it. One of those enchantments lets the sword take in that which makes it stronger. And on one of my misadventures, I may or may not have used the sword which caused it to absorb the world's deadliest venom. I can't confirm or deny that."

Tony eyes her blandly. "I swear, you get into more trouble than I could ever hope to." He sounds fond, though, so Hari just smiles cheekily at him.

"Ah! There you are!"

Hari and Tony both turn to see Thor walking towards them, holding hands with Jane. She offers them both a smile.

"Hey, Point Break," Tony greets, standing up. He holds a hand out to Hari, pulling her up beside him.

"You both look well rested after this afternoon's excitement," Thor comments. He turns to give Jane a besotted smile. "I have regaled the tale to Jane already. Now it's time for dinner. My mother has prepared a feast in honor of your stay!"

"Oh, she didn't have to go through all that trouble," Hari says.

"I like food," Tony says. "Lead me to food."

Thor laughs boisterously. "Come, I shall lead you to the banquet hall." He begins to lead them back towards the castle.

"Dr. Foster, can I just say that I love your work on astronomical anomalies? Seriously, the paper you wrote about wormholes and the Bifrost was _out of this world_." Tony says, grinning cheekily.

Jane's eyes light up, and then they're talking a mile a minute about science stuff that makes Hari's head spin.

Thor turns to Hari; his expression is sober, quiet. His eyes are sad as he says, "My father has agreed to you questioning Loki shortly after the feast."

Hari reaches out to pat him on the arm. "I don't want to give you any false hope," she says. "But you know your brother. Do you think he did this of his own volition, or do you think he was controlled?

Thor frowns as he thinks. "I think the world of my brother," he says quietly. "In many ways, I suppose I've always been jealous of how smart he is, how our mother favors him so with their shared magic, and so I mocked him for it. I may have defended him against my newfound comrades, but when I confronted him, I could not tell if he were himself or if he was someone's puppet." He shakes his head in disgust. "I've been… a _terrible_ brother. And as none are allowed to visit him whilst he is in prison, I haven't gotten the chance to apologize."

Hari sighs. "You know, I grew up in a household quite similar," she tells him.

Thor turns to her, intrigued. "You, too, were stolen shortly after your birth?"

Well, put that way…

"Ya know, I'm not actually sure. I don't see why my mother would believe that her sister was the right choice to raise a magical child, but I don't know. Maybe she'd hoped Petunia would feel some kind of familial connection. I've never actually seen my parents' will, though, so I have no idea if I was supposed to go to her or not." Hari shrugs her shoulders. No use crying over spilt potion. "But regardless, I did end up being placed with her. I was left on her doorstep not even twelve hours after my parents were murdered. She didn't find me until the next day when she opened the door to pick up her milk."

Thor stares at Hari, alarmed. "Is this a normal Midgardian custom? To leave babes outside to be picked up with produce?"

"…no?" She doesn't sound as confident as she should. Hari clears her throat and continues, "I was basically thrust onto my relatives. They never wanted me, and they made that abundantly clear. My cousin was close to my age, but he saw how his parents treated me, and was then encouraged to treat me the same. He used to play this game, Hari Hunting, where he and the other boys in the neighborhood would hunt me down and beat me up. Anytime he broke something, he'd blame me and get me in trouble."

Thor flinches as if Hari struck him. "I find myself enraged at your cousin for mistreating you so, and yet it shames me to admit that I treated Loki the same." He shakes his head, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I cannot believe I was so blind. It's no wonder Loki hates me."

"But you know what?" Hari looks at Thor and smiles. "Things are better between us now. Dudley, my cousin, he came to some sort of epiphany all on his own, and he's been working so hard at becoming a better person. We're really close now."

Thor looks hopeful now. "You were able to repair your relationship?"

"It wasn't easy," Hari admits. "There were so many times I just wanted to never see him again. He'd really tormented me when we were children, but it wasn't his fault, not really. He was raised thinking that kind of behavior was okay. And I understand that now, but I couldn't just forget how miserable he'd made me. But Dudley didn't give up. He really put in a lot of effort to make amends."

Thor nods his head slowly. "I shall endeavor to do the same," he intones solemnly. He smiles at her. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

Hari smiles back. "Of course," she murmurs. "Just… forgiveness is a gift, not a requirement. He doesn't have to forgive you. Hell, he doesn't even have to give you a chance. I know you want to make up for how you treated him, but _he_ has to make the decision to allow you to repair your relationship. The only thing you can do is extend the olive branch and accept whatever decision he makes."

"You are very wise, Lady Potter," Thor says. "Here we are."

Hari blinks and looks around. They are, indeed, standing in front of the banquet hall, although she'd been so engrossed in her conversation that she hadn't noticed. It's full of people, and she can hear music playing merrily, boisterous laughter. The _smell_ coming from the hall is enough to make her stomach grumble and her mouth water.

Tony is next to her then, offering her his arm. "Shall we eat, m'lady?"

Hari snorts, but accepts the offered limb. "We shall."

* * *

Loki looks every bit an Asgardian prince as he lounges against a chair, reading a book. He doesn't even look up as their small group approaches his cell, doesn't respond when his mother and brother greet him, doesn't react in any way.

The cell has a plush chair, an end table, and even a small bed. Compared to the other barren cells, it's positively luxurious with its furnishings. But it matters not.

A gilded cage is still a cage.

"Long time no see, Reindeer Games," Tony says. His posture is relaxed, charming, but he grips onto Hari's hand tightly, positioning his body slightly in front of hers.

Loki looks up then. He regards Tony with a small smirk. Putting down his book, he crosses his legs and leans further into his chair. "Man of Iron," he purrs. His eyes flicker over to Hari, and the smirk widens. "Well, isn't this touching? Two little Death-Touched mortals at the snake's pit."

Hari takes a small step forward, not letting go of Tony's hand. "Loki," she greets. "I'm Hari Potter. I'd like to ask you some questions about the invasion."

There's something like recognition that flashes in his green eyes, but it's gone so quickly that Hari thinks she must be imagining it.

Loki's eyes flicker to Odin, and there's a flash of anger there, burning hot and absolutely scathing in its intensity. "I've already been questioned about that incident," he says. "It's old news now."

"Not to the Wizarding community on Earth, it's not," Hari replies.

One of Loki's brows arches high. "Earth has no magicians."

Hari opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, there's a subtle nudge at her mental shields. She knows instantly that it's Loki, and she tightens her defenses, slamming Loki out. "You'll want to stay out of my mind," she says calmly. "The last person that tried to break past my shields ended up in the hospital."

It's not an exaggeration. Hari prides herself on her mental shields now; she couldn't learn effectively from Snape, not when he steamrolled his way into her mind and tore it apart until her head throbbed, ached, _screamed_ in agony. But after the war, she made sure she found a suitable teacher to help her build the strongest, nastiest defenses that she possibly could.

Loki chuckles darkly. "I'm a _god_ , mortal," he brags. "Your pathetic defenses wouldn't be able to so much as lay a scratch on me."

"Yeah? _Try me_."

Hari stares him down, not willing to give him a single inch. Let him try to tear her mind apart. Let him force his way in. Let him _pay_ for his folly like the last one to make such an attempt. Her magic pulses inside of her, begging the god to take her up on her challenge.

Loki pauses at her expression and for a few moments, he just stares. His eyes rake over her body, too slow to be polite but too fast to be leering. Then, he does the same to Tony, inspecting him closely.

"What do you want?" Loki asks.

"I already told you. I need to know—"

"—about the Chitauri, yes, I already got that." He waves his hand impatiently. "What, specifically, do you wish to know?"

Odin takes a step forward. "Loki, were you working with Thanos?"

A muscle in Loki's jaw twitches, but he says nothing, throwing a disdainful glare at the King and purposefully turning away.

Odin scowls. " _Loki_ ," he starts, but he's cut off when Frigga places a hand on his arm.

"Loki, please," she says. Her voice is soft and pleading. "Listen to your father. Did—"

"HE IS NOT MY FATHER!" Loki roars, standing up so suddenly that his chair nearly flies back. "I AM NOT HIS SON! I AM MERELY ANOTHER RELIC _STOLEN_ FROM A FALLEN EMPIRE!"

Loki's rage is almost visible, visceral and hot and bitter. He glares at Odin darkly, seething with rage, but the old King stares back at him impassively.

Frigga's eyes well up with tears. "If… if he is not your father," she chokes out, "then am I not your mother?"

Thor walks forward to console her, but she takes a step towards Loki's cell, placing her hand against the golden magic keeping him inside.

Loki looks startled for a moment. He opens his mouth to answer, but seems to think better of it. He turns to Hari again and smiles, all charm and teeth, signs of his rage forgotten. "What do you wish to know?" he repeats.

Hari licks her lips. She glances at Frigga, but even with tears streaming down her face, the Queen looks dignified. Tony squeezes her hand reassuringly. "We have reason to believe that Thanos was actually behind the invasion of the Chitauri," she says slowly. "I want to know if that's true."

Loki regards her for a long moment. He steps closer and closer until his nose nearly touches the golden magic. "Information isn't free," he says silkily.

Tony scowls. "What do you want for it?"

Loki laughs. "I'm not going to ask for much," he purrs. "I'll even make it a fair trade: information for information."

Thor speaks up now, his voice uncharacteristically small. "What do you want, Loki?"

Loki turns towards him, a snarl forming on his lips. "I'm not asking you, _brother_." He turns back to Hari. "I'm asking _her_. It's obvious how the Man of Iron became Death-Touched, but _you_? You're an anomaly. How could a witch from _Midgard_ earn such an honor? It's unthinkable."

"And if I tell you, you'll speak of the invasion?"

"Tell? Oh, no. Why do something as mundane as tell me when you can _show_ me?" Loki smirks.

Another nudge, more purposeful than the last time.

"If I refuse?"

Loki shrugs. "I tell you nothing," he says. He takes a step back and laughs, and then his gaze slides over to Tony. "You've probably told the Man of Iron. I could so easily pull it from his mind. But don't worry; I won't hurt him. _Much_." His hands flicker green, and the sight of it is enough to make Tony tense.

It's not a difficult decision to make, then.

"Stop being a dick," she demands. And then she lets go of Tony's hand. "You got yourself a deal."

Tony steps forward. "Hari," he says, his eyes wide and alarm written all over his face.

"It's okay," she tells him. He opens his mouth to speak, but she puts a finger to his lips. "I need you to trust me right now, okay?"

There's a long pause as Tony stares into her eyes, searching. Hari's vaguely aware of Loki watching them with interest.

"I do," Tony says softly, taking a small step back. "I do trust you."

Warmth bursts through her. To have Tony's trust is… it's _indescribable_.

"A deal, mortal," Loki says.

"You could be less of an attention whore, ya know," Tony snaps.

There's another persistent nudge at her shields.

Well, there's no time like the present.

With a deep breath, Hari nods her head.

And then she releases her shields.


	25. caught in this wicked game

Timeline:  
[x] (2012) The Avengers  
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3  
 **[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World**  
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2  
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man  
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming  
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok  
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

* * *

Wisps of green magic slowly unfurl from Loki's hand, a devilish grin twisting his lips upward. The image does not calm Tony down in the slightest. He grips his suitcase armor tightly in his hand, every muscle in his body tense and ready to strike if necessary.

He should have come down wearing the suit. It's great to have a portable suit, there's no doubt about that, but the time it takes for the armor to cinch around his body is too long. When he gets back to Earth, he'll need to make it smoother, faster, better.

But he's not on Earth.

He's on Asgard, and he's standing down because Hari asked him to trust her.

And Tony does. He trusts her so completely that it honestly scares him a little. She's a powerful witch, but Loki is a Norse _god_. Specifically, he's the god of _mischief_ and _chaos_. Tony knows he has some sketchy shit up his sleeve, he knows that Loki is gonna try to weasel his way out of this deal.

Hari is pretty crafty herself, but Loki has been doing this for so much longer.

They should have tested the truth potion first and subjected Loki to it before any deals were made. It is an oversight that they are going to pay for.

Still, Hari doesn't look alarmed at all. In fact, her arms are crossed in front of her chest, utterly nonchalant and bored. Tony can see her hand touching the holster strapped to her right arm; it won't snap her wand into her hand, not in this position, but her hand still touches the smooth handle. The green magic lazily drifts to her, twisting and turning not unlike the Aether had. Hari cocks an eyebrow at the show, the straight line of her mouth showing just how unimpressed she is with it.

Oh, how he loves her.

The magic suddenly washes over her, seeps into her skin. The sudden movement makes Tony's grip on his suitcase armor tighten, but Hari doesn't show any reaction.

For a few moments, nothing happens.

Tony's eyes dart from Hari who looks unconcerned, to Loki who looks like the cat that got the canary, to Thor who looks breathtakingly confused. The tension is so thick and palpable, and Tony can feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand at attention.

And then the magic bursts out of her, so blinding that Tony flinches back and throws a hand in front of his eyes even as he squeezes them shut. He can vaguely hear Thor cry out in alarm, but the god of thunder is the only one to utter anything.

When the light fades, they're not outside of Loki's cell anymore.

They're in a house. It's a modest house with at least two stories, given the staircase just to the left of him. Pictures litter the cream-colored walls, showcasing a family of three. There's a blond, chubby kid featured prominently in nearly all of the photos. Standing next to the kid in at least half of the photos are two adults, assumedly his parents, and he doesn't recognize any of them. The woman is tall, on the thinner side with blonde hair, and the man is unbelievably obese with a bushy beard that inexplicably reminds Tony of a walrus.

Tony's knuckles turn white on the handle of the suitcase, and his heart starts to pound furiously. A glance at the Asgardians reveals only he and Thor are confused, which isn't comforting in the slightest.

Even worse, Hari is missing.

She was there a second ago, as relaxed as she'd been when she issued the challenge to Loki. He hadn't looked away for longer than a few seconds.

Tony turns towards Loki, an icy hot rage building. He's seconds away from beating Loki over the head with the suitcase when the door suddenly opens.

The family walks into the house, the mother coddling her crying child. Behind them is the walrus-like man, and there's another person, too; a little girl with messy black hair that isn't featured in any of the pictures on the wall.

Tony holds his hands up, ready to assure them that they're not in the house to rob them when the mother and chubby kid just _walk straight through them_. It's unbelievably jarring, and a tingly sensation crawls up Tony's spine and makes him shiver. It reminds him a little of traveling by portkey.

" _What happened?_ " the fat man snarls. He grabs the little girl by her hair, yanks it back so that she's forced to look up at him. And that's when Tony sees it.

The lightning bolt scar.

Hari.

" _I swear I don't know_ ," she cries out. " _One minute the glass was there, and then it was gone. It was like magic!_ "

But this answer doesn't placate the man, who Tony now knows is her uncle. He drags Hari by her hair, through Tony, and opens the door underneath the staircase, none too gently tossing her into the small cupboard.

" _There's no such thing as magic!_ " her uncle snarls as he slams the door shut. And then, ignoring the soft cries coming from inside the cupboard, he stalks further into the house, looking for his wife and son.

Tony stands there, dumbfounded. He shakes his head, dazed and confused, unsure of what he just saw. He knew that she had an unhappy childhood, one that was caused because of her magical inheritance and her intolerant relatives. But, _this_ …

He hadn't expected this.

"What have you done, brother?" Thor demands. His gaze travels from the cupboard, where they could hear sniffling, to his brother, who is watching the events with interest.

Loki merely smirks. "I did as promised," he purrs, sounding quite pleased with himself. "I am viewing her memories to discover what led to this mortal witch becoming Death-Touched. You're all just along for the ride."

"This… this isn't what made her Death-Touched," Tony says faintly. No, Hari had told him what happened. She walked to her death – when she was _seventeen_. She's a child now.

Loki sneers. "If you think one singular action is enough to win Death's favor, you're not as smart as you think."

Before Tony can say anything, the scene changes. The backdrop of the living room fades, and now he can't exactly tell where they are. Somewhere dark, possibly underground, with stone walls and torches illuminating the room.

Hari's standing in front of a mirror. There's a man with a purple turban to her left, his hand digging into her shoulder as he demands that she tell him the truth. Even as young as she is, Hari stares at the man defiantly, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, her lips pressed tightly together.

Tony doesn't know who's more horrified when the removal of the turban reveals the face attached to the man's head, him or Thor. The god of thunder lets out a muted grunt of surprise, and he mutters something in a language that Tony doesn't understand.

Not that Tony's even paying attention to him. Tony's eyes are focused on Hari. She looks so small, so fragile, and yet so strong. He watches numbly as the man tries to strangle her, as her touch burns him to ash in front of her eyes, as she shivers and has a minor panic attack in the aftermath.

"This isn't right," Tony says. He glares furiously at Loki. "You asked for her to show you how she became Death-Touched. _Only_ you. Why are the rest of us here? This is an invasion of privacy!"

Loki shrugs, unconcerned. "I listed my terms and she agreed to them."

There's something else in Loki's eyes, in the way that he crosses his arms in front of his chest. He's smirking wildly, relishing in Tony's outrage, and there's an unholy amount of glee and pleasure as he takes in the events of Hari's life.

But there's also a glimmer of defensiveness, of self-righteousness that seems out of place.

There isn't enough time to fully break down and analyze Loki's intentions. "Take us out," Tony demands, stalking towards him. "Your deal with Hari doesn't require us to bear witness."

Loki stares at him. "You really think you can make demands of me?" His voice is quiet, almost inquisitive.

Tony opens his mouth to answer, but he never gets the chance. With a flick of Loki's wrist, both the god and his adopted family are gone, leaving Tony trapped. He lets out a scream of frustration, damning Loki and his magic to any Hell that exists.

The scenes keep on changing, shifting all around them, disorienting and assaulting Tony's senses in a way that leaves his temples throbbing.

Hari is a little older now. She's standing atop a statue, armed with nothing but a glittering sword. Not just any sword, no, but the sword that destroyed the Aether. She trembles a little as she slashes at the giant snake.

Tony knows that Hari survives the encounter, he _knows_ this, and yet watching her battling a snake that has to be at least fifty feet long, staring into her youthful, determined face, Tony feels fear viciously clamp around his heart.

His blood is coursing through his veins so loudly. He only has eyes for Hari as she jabs the sword through the roof of the snake's mouth, as she yanks out the fang that pierced her skin, as she shakily stumbles towards the gloating boy and the unconscious girl.

" _You'll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Hari_ ," Tom Riddle crows.

Hari's arms tremble. Her face is shiny with sweat, and Tony knows that's partly due to the venom coursing through her veins. She laughs, nothing more than a few puffs of air. Tony blinks, taken aback when she smiles at her nemesis. " _Perhaps_ ," she agrees softly as she grips the basilisk fang tightly in one hand and grabs the diary in her other.

" _What are you doing?_ "

Hari's smile turns sharper. " _I'm taking you down with me_." And she plunges the fang into the diary over and over, ink spurting from the puncture wounds like an arterial spray.

And then they're in a graveyard. Hari is with an older boy, and Tony's heart clenches when her eyes go wide with horrified realization.

" _I've been here before… in a dream_ …" she mutters as a shiver rips through her body.

" _Kill the spare!_ "

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " A flash of green light connects with the boy's chest, downing him.

" _NO! CEDRIC!_ "

It all happens so fast that Tony can barely keep up. Cedric's unseeing eyes are looking at him. He shivers violently when Hari is tortured, when her body contorts horrifically, when she screams and screams and _screams_. Voldemort taunts her, yanking her long hair to bring her closer to his grotesque face.

She doesn't stop fighting, though. With every breath that gets more labored, Hari fights. She's terribly outclassed, ridiculously outnumbered, but she's resolved to fighting to her death, if it comes to that. Hari squares her shoulders, bares her teeth, and she _attacks_.

Her escape is nothing short of miraculous, even with the help of the incorporeal forms of her parents.

The crowd immediately cheers when Hari returns, clutching Cedric's body in her grasp. They don't notice the unnatural stillness in the boy, the way Hari's body shakes with the force of her sobs, and Tony doesn't know how these people could be so _blind_. How could they watch the events unfolding and not immediately notice that something is so very _wrong_?

Tony looks around, bewildered, and his eyes focus on the adults. They're as enthralled by Hari's return as the rest of the crowd, all except for the old, wizened man in the gaudy purple robes. Tony knows immediately that this man is Albus Dumbledore. He's read about the life achievements of the late wizard in several of the books that Hari's gotten him, has heard snippets about him from Hari's own mouth.

But Dumbledore takes in the scene with sharp, calculating eyes, and that look alone leaves a bad taste in Tony's mouth.

The scene melts around them just as the cheering turns to shrieks of horror. Hari doesn't look much older physically, but there's a weariness in her eyes that haunts Tony. _She's too young_ , he thinks. Too fucking young to have gone through the horrific events that saturate her short life.

She's cut off her long hair. It's an uneven cut, almost boyish, but it suits her. More importantly, it's too short for anyone to grab.

Her cousin is older, too, his bulk utterly massive. He's taller than Hari by inches, outweighs her by at least sixty pounds, and yet he stares at her as if _he's_ in danger of _her_. The sky darkens as the sun finishes setting, the very air around them becoming cold and quiet.

" _What are you doing?_ " Dudley demands. He's big and opposing, and there's definitely anger in his voice, but Tony can hear the fear lingering just underneath.

" _It's not me_ ," Hari says, her teeth chattering. She looks around wildly, searching for the cause of the unnatural turn of weather. " _Come on, we have to go_." She reaches out to grab his arm.

But Dudley stumbles away from her. " _You better s-stop what you're d-d-doing or I'll tell Dad! You'll be s-s-sorry!_ " he tries to snarl. He shivers violently, wrapping his beefy arms around himself.

" _I'm not doing this_ ," Hari hisses. " _Seriously, Dudley, we need to leave! Come on—_ "

Like a cornered animal, Dudley lashes out. His fist smashes into Hari's face, eliciting a yelp of pain as she crashes to the ground. " _Freak_!" he bellows. Without a second thought to his downed cousin, Dudley turns and runs into the tunnel.

Hari scrambles to her feet, fixing her skewed glasses. " _Dudley, no, you're running right towards it!_ " she shrieks, pulling out her wand as she chases after him.

Dudley must not see what she's talking about, but Tony can.

A dark, cloaked figure, one skeletal hand reaching out to grab the boy. It looks like Death, like the classical grim reaper. The creature leans down and _starts to suck out Dudley's soul,_ and that's when Tony realizes that they're up against a dementor. He's seen the illustrations in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , but the reality of these creatures is far more horrifying than any words could convey.

And there's two of them.

Hari's wand clatters uselessly to the floor. She scrambles for it, glancing at where Dudley has fallen victim to the other one. " _Come on, come on_ ," she mutters. " _Lumos!_ "

The wand lights up a few feet away.

Tony frowns, confused. That… that shouldn't be possible, right?

There's not enough time to ponder it. Hari barks out a spell, and the silvery Patronus that erupts from the tip of her wand is exquisite, a beacon of light and hope as it chases off the shadowy creatures.

She runs over to Dudley, falling to her knees as she gently slaps his face and shakes him, worry audible in her voice.

There's a sudden noise, and then Hari turns, pointing her wand at the entrance of the tunnel.

Only she's not in a tunnel anymore. She's still on her knees, wand pointed outward defensively, and there's sweat beading on her forehead, dripping down the collar of a large, baggy shirt.

Tony turns and sees Snape, the dour Potions Master, berating Hari. He hisses out a spell with nary a warning, and Hari sucks in a choked breath, small whines of pain escaping her throat. This goes on and on until she collapses on all fours, gagging.

" _Control your emotions! Discipline your mind!_ " Snape snarls.

And Tony wants to knock some sense into the dour man because what the fuck does that even _mean_? Can't he see that this is something that Hari is struggling with, that she doesn't understand how to proceed?

He watches as Snape rips into her mind, as the pain and force of it sends her to her knees. Hari clutches at her head, breathing hard and sweating.

Snape shows no mercy.

" ** _Legilimens_**."

And then Hari's standing next to a different man. Tony vaguely recognizes Sirius Black, the wrongfully imprisoned ex-con he'd read about in one of the history books. Hari's godfather. They're side-by-side, whipping out spells at a couple of death eaters.

" _Nice one, James_ ," Sirius says after Hari disarms one of them.

Hari turns to him, surprise and hurt on her face.

They're both taken by surprise when a curly haired woman viciously slashes her wand in a fatal arc, hissing, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

That poisonous green light hits Sirius square in the chest. He's still smiling as his body tips backward, as he passes through an arch, as he disappears.

Hari's face quickly morphs into devastation. She reaches forward, almost lunging towards that mysterious arch, but someone holds her back, pulls her away as her arms outstretch.

The scream that rips free from her throat brings tears to Tony's eyes. It doesn't sound human anymore, animalist and primal in its agony, piercing Tony's heart. He didn't think she could scream any worse than when she'd been tortured in that graveyard.

Tony was wrong.

A spell whizzes past Tony's head. He flinches instinctively, turning to see who had thrown the spell. He gasps when he sees it's none other than a younger Draco Malfoy. Draco's face is wet with tears, but his lip is curled upwards in a snarl, something dark and feral in his eyes.

They're in a bathroom now. Hari and Draco duck and exchange spells furiously, destroying the sinks and stalls around them.

Draco starts to mutter a curse, but Hari is faster. Her spell slices across Draco's chest, surprising the both of them into inaction. Draco glances down at the hit she landed. Blood blossoms across his white shirt; his hand reaches up to touch it, shaky, and he glances back at her in equal parts disbelief and irritation.

Draco collapses onto the wet floor.

Hari nearly drops her wand. She stares in horror at the damage her spell had caused before she leaps towards the downed boy, her hands reaching out to try to stem the bleeding. Draco gasps in pain.

" _I'm sorry_ ," she says. " _Shite, I'm sorry, I… I didn't know!_ "

Draco throws her a withering look, rolling his eyes even though the movement then causes him to grimace.

Tony honestly has no idea how they managed to raise two kids.

Snape's appearance throws Tony for a loop. Hari is pushed aside as Snape sets to work healing Draco. For a moment, she stares as Draco's flesh knits back together.

Then, before anyone could say anything, Hari turns around and runs.

When the memory changes, they're standing on a tower. The night breeze ruffles Draco's hair, but he keeps pointing his wand at Dumbledore. His hand is shaky, but his face is resolved.

Tony's eyes flicker to where Hari is standing, obscured and unmoving.

" _You don't understand_ ," Draco cries. " _I have to do this. He'll kill her if I don't_."

Tony doesn't know who Draco's talking about, but he knows the desperation on the blond's face. Still, Dumbledore tries to talk Draco down, tries to reason with him, and to Tony's surprise, it actually works. Draco starts to put his wand down.

The next few moments are a blur. More Death Eaters arrive, including Snape, and any hope of turning Draco dies with it. Dumbledore begs Snape, his eyes beseeching.

Snape kills him.

Tony watches the spell leave Snape's wand, watches as the older wizard is blasted off the tower, and yet something doesn't feel right.

Draco is pale, disbelieving, as if he hadn't really expected Dumbledore to be killed. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he glances at Snape, equal parts relief and uncertainty on his face. Hari is devastated, following them to the grounds and confronting them by herself.

" _Murderer_!" she shrieks at Snape. " _Fight back, you coward!_ "

Snape remains impassive. He stares dispassionately at her, effortlessly blocking her attempts at retribution. With a hand on Draco's shoulder, he leaves Hari in a sobbing heap on the floor.

Tony stares at Snape with narrowed eyes. As much as it pains him to admit, this is a prime opportunity to kill Hari and get away with it; why not kill her when she's vulnerable? Why leave?

Hari's sobs eventually fade, and the next thing Tony knows, she's running through a forest. Ron and Hermione are by her side, keeping face as they're chased by multiple assailants. They dodge spells with an efficiency that is well-practiced, ducking around trees and feinting this way or that way.

It reminds Tony of his first time exercising with Hari, when she randomly threw tennis balls at him and forced him to dodge them. Watching how wickedly fast a spell could travel puts things into perspective.

Ron is the first to get captured, falling to the floor as metal chains wrap around his ankles. Hari and Hermione keep running until they can run no more, until the enemies begin to circle them and close in.

Hermione turns her wand to Hari then, successfully hitting her right in the face. Hari lets out a pained grunt as she drops to the ground. Her face immediately begins to swell until her features aren't immediately recognizable, until her tell-tale lightning bolt scar is easily obscured by the expanded skin of her forehead.

Still, even without the lightning bolt scar, Hari isn't exactly unknown, and when she's taken to an extravagant manor that Tony's father would've approved of, Bellatrix is waiting, smirking, eyes alight with the knowledge that she would make her master very happy.

Draco is brought in to identify Hari, and Tony lets out a small sigh of relief every time Draco denies it being her. His father pressures him, urges him to take another look, double check, _be absolutely certain_ , but Draco is firm in his resolve to not out her.

" _I can't tell_ ," he says even as his eyes flicker to where the lightning bolt scar would normally be.

It's a different kind of bravery, but no less valid.

Still, Tony isn't exactly surprised when Draco tries to capture Hari later. He understands how torn Draco must have been, to believe so whole-heartedly in a cause and then discover that it's not what he thought it'd be, to not have a choice but continue fighting for a side you don't believe in because the alternative is death.

Tony doesn't know what he'd do, if his mother's life was on the line and the only way to save her was to commit terrible atrocities.

" _Why didn't you tell your aunt it was me?_ " Hari asks. She stares at Draco's wand, but doesn't make a move to defend herself.

Draco swallows, but stays quiet. The two cronies on either side of him are encouraging him to bring Hari to Voldemort, but Draco only has eyes for Hari.

The choice is taken out of his hands when Hermione disarms him. It devolves quickly then, with the aggressors scrambling once Hari has reinforcements. Ron chases after them, screaming, but the victory is short-lived.

" _Run! Run, the bloody idiot cast Fiendfyre!_ " Ron comes barreling from around a mountain of books. His freckles are visible against his pale face, and he grabs a hold of Hari and Hermione and pulls.

The fire is so hot that Tony can nearly feel it himself. It consumes everything in its path, and it's by sheer luck that Ron stumbles into broomsticks that they can use. Draco is climbing a mountain of books, the fire steadily creeping up. He, too, will be consumed if he can't get to safety.

But Hari goes back for him.

She spots Draco hanging for dear life, and she turns around. She calls out to him and extends a hand.

He takes it.

They leave the burning room behind, and when they crash onto the floor, they're not enemies. They're kids who just cheated death, who lay on the cold floor panting, who reach out and grasp each other's hands because yes, holy shit, they're still _alive_.

The moment dissipates quickly.

Tony watches as Draco scrambles away, as he runs down the hall and doesn't look back.

Hari lingers on the floor for a second longer before hauling herself to her feet. There's still work to be done.

" _You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever._ "

" _My Lord…_ "

There's a bang as a body crashes to the floor.

" _Nagini, kill_."

Hari can't see what's going on, but still she pinches her eyes shut. As the snake strikes and Snape's body bangs against the wall, Hari brings her hands over her ears and curls in on herself, flinching.

When it's all finally over, when Hari carefully peels away her shaking hands, when she's absolutely certain that Voldemort is gone, Hari goes to Snape. Tony stares hard at the bloodied man, at his labored breathing.

Hari also stares for a moment, but then she's leaping into action. Her hands try to stop the bleeding, and she looks around to see if there's anything she can use to help.

But there's no helping Snape. Tony knows this, Hari knows this, and more importantly, Snape knows this, too.

" _Take them_ ," Snape whispers as his tears turn silver.

Hari's eyes widen and she turns to her shocked friends. " _Give me something. Quickly, a flask, anything._ " She puts the offered flask against his cheekbone as she collects the tears.

" _Take them to the pensieve_." Snape's voice is hardly more than a garbled whisper. He coughs, sending blood misting over Hari.

She slips the vial into her pocket. There's nothing else to be done. Still, Snape sucks in small, labored breaths, and Hari flinches with each gurgle.

Tony dislikes the dour man, and yet he can't help but pity him. This is a slow way to die, a painful way to die. Flecks of bright red blood rest vibrantly against Snape's pallid, grey complexion.

Hari slowly reaches for his hand. She takes it with her own, holding onto it tightly. Snape glances at her almost disinterestedly. " _I don't like you_ ," she tells him.

Snape almost smiles at that, nothing more than a twitch of his lips. " _The feeling… is mutual_ ," he grits out.

" _But_ ," Hari continues, " _you are one of the bravest men I've ever known_."

That seems to surprise Snape. He wheezes and coughs. " _Don't… mock… me…_ "

She squeezes his hand. He doesn't shake her off, though Tony isn't sure that's because he won't or because he can't. " _Thank you for saving my life_ ," she tells him. " _I should've said this a long time ago, and I'm sorry I didn't_." She glances away, and Tony can see how shaken she is.

" _Look at me_ ," Snape whispers. When she does, he says, " _You have more than your mother's eyes._ "

Hari bites down on her lower lip. Her eyes become wet and glossy with tears. She clears her throat. " _Professor, what would I get if I added powered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?_ "

Snape shakes his head, the movement not terribly big. His dark eyes are clouded over. "… _oh, Lily… forgive me_ …"

Hari shushes him, still clasping his hand. " _It's the Draught of the Living Dead, sir._ " When he doesn't answer, she says, " _Where can I find a bezoar?_ "

"… _goat_ …" His breathing becomes more labored, his chest slowly stuttering to a stop.

" _What is the difference between aconite and wolfsbane?_ "

But Snape doesn't answer this time. His eyes are slightly open, unseeing, a little twist of his lips suggesting something of a smile.

Hari swallows audibly. " _Sir?_ " she whispers. " _P-Professor?_ "

Nothing.

She shakily reaches over and closes his eyes. Her hand rests against his face, trembling a little. The silence is overwhelming, thick.

But then Hari stands up. When she looks at Ron and Hermione, her face is hard, determined.

She follows Snape's orders, takes those silvery memories to the Headmaster's office so she can view them in a pensieve. Ron and Hermione want to view them with her, but she refuses. They don't try to argue her.

It's weird, viewing a memory within a memory. Still, Tony pays rapt attention, and with every revelation of Dumbledore's manipulations, with every truth that comes to light, Tony feels a deep, seething rage grow.

He knew that Dumbledore had betrayed her. Death had said so that night when it warned them of Thanos. Tony couldn't have prepared for how deep that betrayal cut to the bone. It was Obadiah-level of betrayal, and the thought if it makes Tony sick. He knows intimately what it's like to have someone you love double cross you in this way, set you up to be killed.

Because although Dumbledore hadn't hired a terrorist group or donned a bastardized suit, he had actively planned Hari's death. He'd known this entire time that Hari wasn't meant to survive the endgame.

Bitterness threatens to consume him. He knew that he and Hari were a lot alike, but this… it's _uncanny_.

Is this because they're both Death-Touched?

Hari walks out of the Headmaster's office, her moves stiff and mechanical. Ron and Hermione are waiting for her. Silence descends upon the three friends. Hari's face is open, expressive, and one look at her reveals her plans to give herself over to Voldemort.

" _There's a reason I can hear them, the horcruxes. I think I've known for a while, and I think you have, too_."

" _I'll go with you_." The offer pierces Tony's chest in ways he didn't expect.

" _No_." Hari smiles sadly. " _You need to finish it_."

But Hermione violently shakes her head. She leaps to Hari, enveloping her in a strong hug. " _No, it's not fair!_ " she cries. " _We've… we did all of this so you could **live**! This… we can find another way! I can look something up, figure something out—_"

" _There's no time_." Hari hugs Hermione back with equal ferocity. The silent tears that stream down her face fucking _kill_ Tony. Her acceptance of her fate, her willingness to die for an undeserving world… Hermione's right.

This isn't fucking fair.

" _Please, please_ ," Hermione begs, her pleads punctuated with every sob that leaves her mouth.

" _I love you_ ," Hari says. She plants a wet kiss to the side of Hermione's head. " _Forgive me_."

" _Hari_ —"

Hermione doesn't see it coming, _can't_ see it coming, but Tony does. He can see the look in Hari's eyes, the desperation marring her beautiful face.

" ** _Stupefy_**." Hari gently lowers Hermione's stiff body to the floor. She tucks a few bushy curls away from her face and stands. Ron is staring at her like he's never seen her before. " _Are you going to get out of my way, or do I have to go through you too?_ "

For a moment, Ron doesn't say anything. When he does finally talk, his voice is thick and raspy. " _I… I have so much I need to say to you_ ," Ron confesses. " _I need to fix things between us, but I don't have enough time. I need more time, Hari_."

Hari's eyes widen, and Tony understands why she's shocked. From what he's seen of their friendship so far, they're not the type to go into deep discussions. They slap band-aid apologies over bullet holes and call it good.

" _It's fine_ ," Hari says.

Ron shakes his head. His eyes are wet and glossy, and his voice breaks when he talks. " _It isn't fine, Hari. It never was. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, and I never really apologized for any of it. Not properly, at least. I guess… it's so fucking stupid because we're in a war, but I always assumed we'd have more time. I never… I never thought it would come to this, Hari. I never considered that… that I'd have to live in a world without you in it._ " He lets out a deep, shuddering breath. The tears keep falling, but he doesn't make any effort to brush them away or hide them. " _And now, all I can give you is this shitty, d-d-deathbed apology, and you… you deserve more than that. I should have been a better friend to you, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't._ "

Tony swallows thickly, his throat tightening painfully. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't witness this private, tender moment between friends.

Hari's lower lip trembles, and then she's throwing her arms around Ron. She lets out a watery laugh, shaking her head. " _You're not as bad a friend as you think_ ," she says thickly. " _There were times where you really hurt me, yes, but you know what else I remember? I remember a boy who invited me into his family when I had none. I remember a boy who made me feel like I belong when all I'd ever felt like was an outsider, a freak. I remember a boy who sacrificed himself so that I could keep going._ "

Ron's eyes are pinched shut as he squeezes Hari, letting out a muffled sob. " _I don't want you to go,_ " he admits. " _Please, stay_."

Hari continues as if he hadn't spoken. " _I need you and Mione to look after each other, okay? You know how she forgets to eat when she's absorbed in a book, and there are times when you have to be dragged in from the pitch_." Her voice falters, just for a moment. " _J-Just because this is the end for me doesn't mean it's the end for you, too. I want you guys to **live**. Get married, have kids, see the world, grow old. Do everything I won't get to, okay?_"

It's with those words that the reality sinks in. Tony stares as Ron all but collapses in her arms, his fingers tightly gripping the fabric of Hari's jacket. Hari rips herself from his grasp, walks away as Ron buries his face in his hands and breaks. She squeezes her eyes shut, devastation written across her face, but she walks away.

She walks to her death.

Tony follows her the entire way. The Forbidden Forest is as dark and imposing as the name implies, but Hari walks swiftly into it. Tony watches as she turns the stone thrice, watches as the ghostly imprints of her family comfort her, watches as she goes to Voldemort with her head high and a smile gracing her face.

It's over quickly. Tony still can't stop himself from flinching when the spell connects. The world suddenly gets brighter, almost blinding, not unlike when Loki cast the spell. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe the presentation is over. Maybe Loki's finished playing his twisted game. Maybe he can wrap Hari up in his arms, hold her close to him because he doesn't know how the fuck she's still sane after the bullshit he's seen.

But it's not over.

They're in a train station, oddly enough. It's utterly devoid of people, washed of any color. Hari is laying on the floor, naked, and Tony immediately averts his eyes. He's seen her naked plenty of times, yeah, but she's only seventeen here, and the thought of laying his eyes on her is just unequivocally _wrong_.

She gasps, and he cautiously turns towards her. She's clothed now, though he doesn't know how, and she's looking underneath a bench. Curious, Tony walks towards where she's kneeling.

There's a grotesque-looking child curled underneath the bench. It lets out pitiful moans, shivering and curled in on itself.

"Well done, Hari," Dumbledore says. He stands there, watching her with a quiet sort of pride.

Tony hates it. He loathes this kind, grandfatherly exterior. It feels cheap, false, nothing more than a façade. How dare Dumbledore look at her with such sincerity when he basically orchestrated her death? How dare he?

" _Professor_." Hari's voice is flat, disinterested. She's still kneeling by the mangled, grotesque child.

" _You can't help, Hari_." Dumbledore sounds almost sorry. Tony doesn't buy it.

Hari ignores him. With one deft movement, she reaches down to pick him up. The deformed child groans, one malformed hang reaching out to grasp at Hari's shirt. She cradles the child close and closes her eyes.

" _I'm sorry_ ," she whispers to the child.

Tony doesn't know what she's apologizing for. Neither does Dumbledore, who says, " _Hari, my brave girl, you have nothing to be sorry for_." He shuffles closer to her, but Hari takes a step back.

" _You used to tell me that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it_ ," Hari says. She turns angry eyes on Dumbledore. " _Where was his help?_ "

Dumbledore seems at a loss. " _I… my dear…_ "

" _Tom Riddle was a child, once upon a time. You could have done something for him, but you didn't. You knew the kind of home life he had, the kind of treatment he received from Muggles. How could you stand back and do nothing? He was a child that needed your help, and you abandoned him! It's no wonder he turned out the way he did!_ "

Tony's eyes widen in realization. Hari's not just talking about Voldemort, or what's left of him at least, but also her. Dumbledore had abandoned her, too.

" _You were stronger than Tom,_ " Dumbledore says quietly.

Hari glares furiously at him. Tears spill down her cheeks, but her voice doesn't shake despite the enraged anguish it holds. " _You don't get to do that_ ," she spits out. " _You don't get to judge our pain or what we became as a result of it, not when you've failed us_."

Dumbledore's eyes widen. " _Hari_ …"

" _No, Professor. I don't need you to speak right now, I need you to listen_." She holds out the small child. " _This is what your inaction caused."_

" _I'm sorry_ ," Dumbledore whispers. Tears fall down his aged, wizened face, and he looks away.

" _You look at us_ ," Hari demands. " _Don't look away. Voldemort, Snape, me. How many other children have you failed? How different would everything had been if you'd just listened?_ "

" _Please_ ," he pleads. " _I… I am only human, Hari. I've made some grave mistakes, but… I never intended to just…_ "

Hari cradles the child close. She stares at the man as he cries, but she makes no move to comfort him. " _You hurt me_ ," she says plainly. " _You pretended to care about me meanwhile you were orchestrating my death this entire time. How… how does that make you any better than what Voldemort became?_ "

Dumbledore flinches as if struck. " _I did care about you, Hari_ ," he says quietly. " _But… I couldn't care solely about you. Don't you understand? If I allowed myself to get too close to you, so many lives would have been lost. I'm… I'm truly sorry for the hurt I caused, Hari._ "

Hari lets out a sharp bark of bitter laughter. " _Why are you here?_ " she demands. " _Of all the people that could've greeted me, why you?_ "

The old man shrinks in on himself. "… _it was a selfish old man's folly,_ " he tells her. " _I had wanted to see you again._ " He sighs, glancing at the child in her arms. " _Do you intend to move on?_ "

Hari cocks an eyebrow. " _I have a choice?_ " She snorts. " _I must be really dead._ "

That twists the proverbial knife. Dumbledore looks wounded, but Tony can't find it in him to feel too sorry. Still, Hari's face crumbles a little, a mix of anger and guilt warring within her.

" _You do,_ " Dumbledore says quietly.

Hari sighs. She rubs a hand over her face, looking years older, world-weary. " _What will happen to him?_ " she asks, rocking the child.

Dumbledore swallows. He hesitates before lifting his arms. " _I don't know,_ " he admits. " _But… but I will see what I can do_."

Hari eyes him distrustfully, not that Tony blames her. She stares at the child in her arms before—

—the world starts spinning violently. Tony doesn't know what's happening, looks around in alarm right before there's a peculiar swooping sensation, as if a roller coaster just crested over the top and is making its descent.

Tony lands on the floor, his suitcase armor digging into his ribs underneath him. He feels nauseous, the world still spinning a bit. When he glances around, he sees that he's back in front of Loki's cell. Thor leans over to help him, easily hauling Tony to his feet.

"Fuck, Point Break, warn a guy," Tony groans, clutching onto the Asgardian in hopes that his stomach contents don't get reacquainted with the outside.

Thor eyes him worriedly. "Are you ill, Stark?"

"It's a side effect."

Tony turns to Hari. She's standing right there in front of them, pale, her eyes bloodshot, but otherwise none the worse for wear. She offers him a small, tired smile.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pushing off of Thor and making a few shaky, unsteady steps towards her.

She meets him half-way. "Easy," she warns. "Being saturated in that much magic when you're not used to it can be very unsettling."

Tony pulls her into his arms, squeezing her with almost everything he has. He wants to take her back to their room and barricade themselves in it, wants to keep her safe from everyone else. She hugs him back just as tightly, her fingers trembling. He's kind enough not to say anything.

"Well, that was certainly enlightening."

Loki's voice grates on Tony's ears. He turns to glare hotly at the god. "That suitcase," he threatens, pointing to it, "has an appointment with your fucking face."

Hari squeezes his arm. "A deal's a deal," she tells Loki, looking at him expectantly. "I've upheld my end of the bargain, now it's time for you to uphold yours."

There's a heartbeat of silence, the tension in the air rising astronomically. Tony knows what Loki's going to say before he even says it. He can see it in the curl of Loki's lip, the twitch of his brow.

"No."

* * *

A/N: Hope you guys liked this update! It's longer than usual, but I hope you don't mind that. Tomorrow is my birthday, so maybe drop a comment as a present? :D


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